


Kaleidoscope

by andeemae



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-07
Updated: 2018-05-09
Packaged: 2018-07-12 22:51:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 81,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7126465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andeemae/pseuds/andeemae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life can change with every choice we make, one unguarded moment leads to a very different world for Madge and Gale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I'm just playing with Suzanne Collins' characters and her world. They're hers. Not mine. Any lines from the books are hers too.
> 
> AN: This is a plot bunny that got a little out of control. Hopefully it's not too hard to follow and makes sense, and hopefully Gale doesn't come off as too much of a jerk. There's a reason for everything and it gets explained in later chapters.

Madge shifts on her stool and adjust her sweater.

Her clothes are getting too tight, riding up under the layers, and she's constantly having to right them without drawing the attention of her coworkers.

She's too warm in her thick, woolly sweater, but she keeps it on, insists on wearing it and her frumpy skirts. It's the only way to hide the extra weight she's put on.

Never, not in her wildest dreams would she have imagined herself pregnant and alone when she'd taken up the position almost two years before.

When she'd graduated school she'd set out to find a job, telling her father she wanted to make her own way as best she was allowed.

"I can get you a job at the Justice Building," he'd told her, looking hopeful. "You can be a secretary."

The position held no appeal for her though. It was what was expected of her and it reeked of nepotism.

"No, I...I saw a position at the clerical office for the mines," she'd mentioned instead, hoping it sounded casual. "I was thinking of putting in an application there."

It was the last place anyone would expect her to work, not privileged or pampered at all. That's what she told herself the reason was anyways.

Though he hadn't looked thrilled, he hadn't stopped her, just cautioned that it was a thankless place to work and particularly rough.

Mr. Abernathy had been a little more derisive.

"That's no place for a lady," he'd grumbled as he rifled through their icebox, looking for leftovers.

"They only employ women," Madge pointed out.

"Not all women are ladies," he countered with a huff.

Despite his irritation, Madge had applied and gotten the position, though she doubted the manager of the offices would turn down anyone with the name 'Undersee'.

It had been anything but a pleasant start.

The other women gave her a chilly reception and bestowed upon her the least desirable job with the least helpful coworkers: funds distribution.

Every week she and three other women, all of varying disagreeability and who spent most of their time ignoring Madge's existence, went through time cards and tallied up work hours, and on Friday at five handed out the paychecks.

Of all her tasks, the Friday distribution was the only one she even remotely enjoyed.

She slowly built a rapport with the men, and after a few months, her tiny window with its little door for the check to push out of was the busiest.

"Well of course it is," Mr. Abernathy grumbled as he walked her home, when she'd mentioned it. "Those other women are trolls. Why would they go to them when they got a looker like you?"

Madge had rolled her eyes at his assessment of the situation, but secretly thought he might have a point. On more than one occasion she'd been given flowers, and several of the men stood talking to her long after their check was dispersed.

And then there was Gale Hawthorne.

He was no more friendly with her when picking up his pay than he was on Sunday's when he sold her strawberries on her back porch, less even.

His eyes, when they weren't scowling at her, cataloging everything about her he found offensive, were focused on the ground, his friends and fellow miners, anywhere but on her. He never spoke, not even a grunt of possible thanks, just took his check and stalked off.

For a while Madge suspected he only stood in her line at the insistence of his friend Thom, who never failed to flirt with her and offer to walk her home, but when Thom stayed home sick with the flu one week, Gale still waited in her line.

Madge wasn't sure if it was nothing more than habit or actually meant something.

Part of her had tried to shrug it off, it was a silly schoolgirl crush that she should've outgrown by now. She hadn't though, and that wishful half constantly tried to build meaning from every tiny interaction.

True, Gale is handsome, that's the simple part of it, but there's so much more.

He's brave, going into the woods despite the possible punishments to keep his family fed. His siblings adore him, and he dotes on them. Madge was shocked at how gentle he was with his baby sister, during her time spent with his family during the Seventy-Fourth Games, compared with how gruff he so often is with her.

There's also an air of danger hanging around him, and Madge wishes it weren't so attractive to her.

It is though.

It wasn't until one evening, when she'd been waiting in the blustery fall wind, that she'd ever thought he considered her another human being.

Dry leaves had swirled around her ankles as she'd pulled her coat closer around her, ducking her face into the collar, nose wrinkling at the smell of dust and smoke around her.

Mr. Abernathy was late, something that happened occasionally. He'd drink himself into a stupor and lose track of time. He'd turn up, late, but eventually.

Considering going back into the tiny office building, Madge had only glanced down for half a second to shield her eyes from the wind when heavy boots had appeared in front of her, covered in muck and coal dust.

He'd glared down at her, his gray eyes cutting right through her, causing her already wind burnt cheeks to sting even warmer.

"What're you doing standing out here?"

It was the first full sentence he'd said to her since Katniss' Reaping, a full two years prior.

They'd become something like friends during that time, but after Katniss had come home, Peeta at her side, still playing the part of a star-crossed lover, he'd distanced himself from Madge.

Madge hadn't been sure what he'd expected. Maybe for him and Katniss to pick up where they left off, wherever that was. Maybe they had, for all Madge knew. Peeta and Katniss had seemed to cut off from one another during the few months between their Games and the Victory Tour, and she'd suspected that had something to do with Gale.

After the Tour though, after Peeta had proposed, Katniss had seemingly cut Gale off and focused solely on Peeta.

The break had filled Madge with a strange sense of relief.

Katniss had Peeta, why should she get to have two boys vying for her attention, adoring her, when Madge barely got notice from even one? It was unfair.

Her jealousy had only caused her more distress, and by the time the next Games rolled around, Madge had stopped visiting either of the newest Victors. She didn't deserve their friendship. Not when she had such unfriendly thoughts in her head.

Gale had continued to come on Sunday's, but the transactions were almost wordless. Money and product exchanged hands and ways were parted with little to no speaking, and Madge never sensed he wanted to change that.

Uncertain why he wanted to know, Madge tried to keep the shiver from her voice.

"Waiting."

"For Abernathy?"

Madge barely had the chance to wonder at how he knew just who she was waiting on when he'd huffed.

"He's a damn drunk, unreliable."

"He always shows up."

Gale made a derisive noise. "You'll be half frozen before he does."

Opening her mouth to argue, Madge was cut off by Gale taking her by the upper arm and trying to steer her away from the shelter of the building.

"What're you doing?" She'd asked, jerking away and giving him a reproachful look.

"Taking you home." He'd stuffed his hands in his pockets and glared. "You shouldn't be hanging out here by yourself. There are a lot of jerks that'd hurt you, especially if they recognize you."

Madge started to ask if he was one of those jerks, he was loitering after hours after all, and he certainly had the right demeanor, but hadn't gotten the chance. Mr. Abernathy had finally arrived, looking bleary eyed and rumpled.

"Sorry, sweetheart, overslept." He'd glared daggers at Gale. "Who're you? What're you doing with Madge?"

Gale hadn't been intimidated, just crossed his arms over his chest and stared down his nose at Mr. Abernathy.

"I'm the guy taking her home since you'd rather be climbing out of a liquor bottle."

Mr. Abernathy had just rolled his eyes, unimpressed.

"I'm a few minutes late, jackass."

"That's a few minutes too long," Gale snapped.

Reaching out, Mr. Abernathy wrapped an arm around her shoulder and steered her away.

"I'll keep that in mind."

Gale's teeth had seemed to crack as he ground them and watched Madge be pulled away.

After that, Madge had been hyper-aware of her surroundings while waiting, noticing a tall figure lurking in the shadows, either waiting for a chance to swoop in, or making sure no one did, she wasn't sure.

He didn't talk to her again for another month.

It was drizzling, cold and gray, miserable outside.

All the other women had gone home early, leaving Madge with the undesirable job of filing pay stubs.

She'd been almost done when the flimsy door had swung open and Gale had blown in with midwinter debris, damp grass and mud.

Little flecks of rain clung to his hair, dripping off and rolling down his face and onto his coat and mining uniform until he wiped them away and glared around until he spotted the lone occupant of the building.

His feet, surprisingly soundless in his heavy boots, strode across the room, stopping just short of her tiny desk.

For a few minutes he searched his pockets, rummaging until he found what he was looking for.

Pulling it out, he'd tossed the crumpled paper onto her desk.

"They shorted me two hours."

Giving him a slight, frightened smile, Madge had carefully plucked up the paper and smoothed it out in front of her.

It had been the paycheck from the week prior, already cashed by the looks of it, the telling red stamp of the bank with the Capitol's seal blazing bright against the pale gray of the check.

In cramped, almost illegible writing, one of the girls that actually filled out the checks after Madge's group tallies the hours, had scribbled in the pay amount. Just as he'd said though, it was two hours short.

Frowning at it, Madge had carefully sat it down before going to one of the filing cabinets and finding the proper form.

It was a lot of pointless red tape for a simple clerical error, the girl had probably been distracted or tired, and it seemed a lot of work to Madge, but two hours in the mines needed compensation.

She'd held the form out to him.

"Just, um, fill this out, and hopefully they'll back pay you on your next check."

Which was being hopeful almost to the point of stupidity. The only other pay discrepancy Madge had heard of had taken an entire six months to straighten out. Maybe it was more complicated.

Wordlessly, Gale took the paper and stared at it before grunting, "Got a pen?"

Startled, Madge had fumbled with the desk drawer and pulled out one of the dozens of identical pens and handed it to him.

Hunching over the desk, Gale spent nearly ten minutes scribbling on the form before he unfolded himself and straightened up, handed her the half illegible paper.

Madge stared at it for a minute, certain no one would be able to make out Gale's untidy scroll and deciding to rewrite it for him once he left, before forcing a smile.

"I'll get it filed for you."

He didn't smile back, just stared blankly at her, as if she'd spoken some unknown language.

A few strange moments stretched between them, filling the room uncomfortably, before Gale finally spoke.

"Why are you here?"

Madge frowned. "I work here."

His expression eases, almost slipping into something like amusement, but he snuffs it out and settles on annoyed. "I mean why do you work here? You shoulda got a job at the Justice Building. Nice and clean."

Bristling, Madge felt her hand tighten around the paper, crumpling it slightly.

"I could've. But I didn't want a job there."

His mouth turned up, not in a genuine smile, but more of a smirk, cold and hateful.

"Wanted to get down and dirty with the peasants, huh?"

Unsure why he'd suddenly decided to pick a fight, they'd gotten along in silent amicability for so long it seemed a shame to ruin it, Madge just sighed and turned away. She didn't want to argue with him.

"I'll file this for you."

She'd gone back to work, filing stubs, but could still feel his eyes on her.

Finally, when it was clear he wasn't going to give it up and leave, Madge sighed and turned back to him.

"What, Gale? What do you want?"

If he was looking for some profound answer he was in for a true disappointment.

His jaw tensed and his hand, filthy and blackened, jagged fingernails from days in the mines, jumped to his neck, massaging it anxiously.

"I just want to know why the Mayor's little princess is getting her shoes dirty at the mines."

Without thinking, Madge snapped, "Why do you always get in my line?"

She hadn't meant it like that, at least she hadn't thought she had. It was only meant to throw him off, annoy him a little, but she felt her chest tighten the minute the words left her mouth.

It was a little more on the nose than she'd been aiming for, a little more telling.

She hadn't taken the job just to be near him. It was a nice perk, that much was true, and she missed seeing him everyday like she had in school, but that was hardly the driving reason behind her choice.

That's what she told herself anyways.

Face already blazing, Madge hurriedly tried to cover her blunder.

"I mean-are you just looking for a reason to hate me? What've I ever done to you?"

He didn't say anything for a minute, just scratched at his stubble on his cheek for a minute and thought before shaking his head.

"I'm not looking for a reason to hate you, Undersee," he finally said.

Madge waited for him to say 'existing is enough for that' but it doesn't come.

Instead, his gray eyes, lock with hers and the ghost of a smile flicks on his lips.

"I'm just trying to understand you."

His eyes were too intense, the look too burning, and Madge's cheeks warmed more under it.

"Nothing to understand," she mumbled, turning to go back to her work, hoping he'd leave and spare her more prodding.

Though she didn't hear him move, she suddenly felt warmth at her back, and when she turned her nose bumped into Gale's dirty mining uniform, grazing the faded red stitched embroidery of his name.

"Why come work for the mines?" He asks again, his arms coming up, both hands resting on the top of the filing cabinet, trapping Madge between it and him. He smirked. "Looking to slum it?"

Shoving him, Madge stormed away as he laughed, deep and warm, far too attractive for someone so crude.

He was only trying to rile her up, maybe he was bored or maybe he'd just been waiting for the right moment, but for the first time in the months since Madge started working, he looked happy.

It suited him, being cheerful, and Madge enjoyed the view, even if it was at her expense.

"If I were, it wouldn't be with you," she finally grumbled, grabbing up another stack of stubs and going to a far cabinet.

He dropped into one of the rickety chairs in front of the desk and watched her, then chuckled.

"It would be."

Turning to glare at him, Madge started to counter him, but couldn't form the words. It would be a lie and it stuck in her throat.

Huffing, she went back to her work, ignoring him.

"You volunteer for this?" He asked, gesturing toward the cabinets. "Sanderson's wife said it's the worst job."

Madge answered with a roll of her eyes he couldn't see.

Minutes ticked by and neither one spoke, instead filling the room with a strange quiet that wasn't really unpleasant but still seemed suffocating.

Finally, Gale stood, straightened his threadbare coat, and grunted a goodbye.

When he came by her house that Sunday, nothing changed in their interaction, and Madge was both annoyed and relieved.

She didn't have to traverse new rules of an evolving relationship with Gale Hawthorne, but part of her desperately had wanted too.

The next week came and went, Madge noticed Gale's check hadn't been corrected, and she guessed he'd harass whoever got stuck filing that week about it. When she asked Georgia about it Monday though, she said he hadn't come by.

"I wish he had." She'd sighed. "He's a catch."

The woman that worked the next Friday, old Faith, said the same.

No Gale.

When Friday rolled around once more, Madge volunteered to file. Part of her wanted to put to rest the nagging suspicion in her head that Gale was waiting for her to be there to find out about his pay, and part of her wanted to confirm it. An hour ticked by, then two, then finally at the end of the third and final hour, the door creaked open.

Gale, dry this time, stepped in, shaking his shaggy hair and squinting around the room until he spotted Madge off in a corner, ankle deep in dropped stubs. He'd startled her when he'd blown in.

"I didn't get my pay."

Madge frowned. "And you waited two weeks to come tell us?"

His cheeks deepened in color, though that could've been from the cold outside, and he scowled.

"I've been busy."

That might've been the truth, but Madge hoped it wasn't.

Carefully stepping out of her nest of stubs, she went to the desk and shuffled through the forms until she found his.

"It's under review." She sighed. "It might take a while. That means you'll get paid, probably, but they're going to look at all your time cards for the last year."

He looked anything but surprised.

"Great."

Biting her lip, Madge tried to think of a bright side for him. There really wasn't one.

He'd flopped down in the little chair, half too small and groaning under his weight, and looked at her.

"Don't suppose you could hurry it up, being the Mayor's kid and all?"

A rock formed in Madge's stomach. Maybe that was why he'd waited for her to be there.

"No," she coolly answered. "You should go."

Going back to her pile she roughly began stacking them, furious with herself for ever hoping he'd want to come just to see her.

Suddenly, he dropped down beside her, clumsily gathering papers of his own and offering them to her.

"It was a joke, Undersee, don't get so pissed about it."

"You wouldn't think it was so funny if I made a crack about your life," she snapped, hoping the quiver didn't come through in her voice.

"My life's a hell of a lot less funny than yours," he counters, a little edge to his voice.

Madge keeps her head down, felt tears start to prickle in her eyes and tried to blink them away.

They trickled down her cheeks instead and she quickly attempted to wipe them on her shoulder, but Gale's rough fingers had already shot out and smeared them on her face.

"It's nothing to cry about."

He sounded a little distressed, though Madge imagined he'd made plenty of girls cry in his life. She was just one more.

Swatting at her face, Madge angled away, refusing to let him see her upset.

The stubs rustled, and when she glanced over, she saw Gale picking a few more up and stacking them, his eyes focused on the ground.

Finally, Madge felt a warm breath graze her knees, a long sigh from Gale.

"Look," he muttered, "I'm sorry. Two hours might not seem like much to you, but it's food on the table for me."

Madge nodded. "I understand."

And she did, even if she'd never gone to bed hungry, she knew most of the district did, and it hurt her.

Slowly, her tears dried and they stacked the stubs, and when they finished Gale offered her a hand, pulling her to her feet.

He stayed until she'd finished her filing, offering to walk her home, which she'd regretfully declined.

"Abernathy walking you?"

She nodded.

"He got a crush on you or something?"

Madge snorted. "I doubt that."

He'd headed out after that, though Madge felt the same familiar burning on her skin, his eyes on her, when she left a few minutes later, meeting up with Mr. Abernathy at the bottom of the steps out the office.

After that, Madge volunteered every Friday, and Gale came to see her, waiting with her until her filing was done without fail.

They didn't talk about the mines or Madge's job, except for when the two hours pay finally came through, instead focusing on his siblings, Madge's garden and nonexistent love life, the occasional dirty joke Gale had heard at the Hob.

Madge heard rumors about Gale's dating. A different girl every weekend, each one certain they'd be the one to break his one date streak. None of them ever did.

He took them to the Hob or one of the rowdy parties his friends threw, then up to the slag heap.

That was the pattern, at least as far as Madge could see.

None of the girls complained, at least not that Madge heard. In fact, they all sounded to be quite happy to be notches on his bedpost.

She'd always thought the rumors during school were lies, cooked up by him and his friends to bolster his ego, once his current exploits reached her though she began to doubt that.

No one ever mentioned his Friday nights alone with the Mayor's daughter. It was below their concern, or Gale kept it secret.

The later was more likely. She was a secret, and that made her feel sullied somehow, unworthy of recognition.

Winter melted into a soggy spring, followed by a sultry summer that killed the lone air conditioning unit in the office in mid August.

That's what had caused all the trouble, Madge thinks miserably, pulling her shirt down again, back over her growing belly.

She'd been overheated and irritable, and when Gale had made one of his frequent jabs about dating Mr. Abernathy she'd lost her reserves about prodding him on his dating habits.

"If I were at least I'd be consistent," she snapped, wiping sweat from her face and huffing. "How many girls have you been out with? You're going to run out soon."

Stomping off, she'd gone to the tiny closet to replace a folder.

When she turned to leave though, Gale blocked the exit.

He was far too big for the space, the top of his shaggy dark head hitting the lonely naked bulb illuminating the area, his shoulders almost filling the narrow space between the two rows of filing cabinets.

"I won't run out," he says, his voice a low growl. He ducked a little, leaned in close enough for Madge to count the stubble on his jaw, the tiny beads of perspiration formed in his hair. "I'll still have you, right?"

Madge's heart stuttered in her chest and her breath caught as her mind tried to make sense of what he'd said.

Stepping forward, her eyes stayed trained on his. "Maybe."

He'd grinned, just a fraction, leaned in half an inch more. "I will. You know it, Madge."

It was the first time he'd said her name, not called her Undersee, and the rumble of his voice, the way his mouth formed the sounds, sent electricity through her, made her insides turn.

She knew it was a mistake the minute she lurched forward, capturing his lips with hers, known she was jumping of the precipice of something dangerous and unknown, but she hadn't cared. All that mattered was Gale's hair twisted in her fingers and his hands squeezing her body, pressing her closer and closer to his.

Gale was all muscle, rippled planes and olive skin, and her hands began fumbling with the buttons of his uniform without thought. He wanted her and she wanted him, they were adults, why shouldn't they do what their bodies were so clearly eager to do?

They ended up in a tangle against the wall in the tiny closet, Gale's hands finding their way under her summery skirt and Madge making no effort to stop him.

It wasn't how she'd expected her first time to be, not at all.

There was no gentleness, no sweetness, just sweat and calloused hands, teeth nipping at her skin. No cuddling, no loving words, just animal instinct and, the minute it was over, the hollow sense of regret.

He helped her up after, handed the discarded undergarments back to her after fishing them out from behind the cabinets, then mumbled something about needing to get home.

Then he was gone, and Madge was left feeling gutted and filthy.

She had no right to those feelings, she'd thought bitterly. It had been her choice, even if it was a hasty one made under the influence of a handsome face and hormones.

Mr. Abernathy noticed her mood right away, questioning her the entire way home and then bringing it up to her father the minute the door opened.

"Someone did something to her," he told her father, as Madge snuck up the stairs. "She's acting too quiet."

"Are you sick, love?" Her mother asked her, floating in through Madge's bedroom door, her mouth turned down. "Haymitch is worried."

"I'm fine," she muttered. "Just tired."

Ignoring the curious expression on her mother's face, Madge rushed into the bathroom and turned on the water.

Looking in the mirror, she tried to see if she looked any different.

There was nothing though, she looked just as she had when she left that morning, albeit maybe a little more rumpled.

Her cheeks burned at the memory of how her clothes and hair got in that state.

Gale's calloused hands, the coarseness of his hair, the way his chapped lips grazed her body, all the little details of the moment flooded her mind and she closed her eyes.

It might've been a mistake, but it had been a glorious one.

Cold shame hit her, freezing the sweat on her skin.

She was no different than all those other girls, happy just to have been noticed, worthy even for a moment for the attention of Gale Hawthorne.

Tears began sliding down her cheeks, mixing with the sweat and dripping down the front of her top.

She was no better than the other girls. Maybe he'd spent a little more time with her, but the end result was the same.

The shower had done nothing to make her feel less used.

When Sunday came, she'd made up her mind to confront him, tell him she wouldn't be his warm body when he ran out of girls in the Seam.

But he never came.

She expected to be gossiped about the Monday after, surely he'd told all his friends, and his latest conquest would undoubtedly be delicious fodder for the women.

No one said a word though.

As the week dragged by, and it became clear he hadn't shouted his latest victory from the rooftops, her resolve wavered, and by Friday she simply wanted to talk to him.

He wasn't in her line though, and as the evening rolled by, he didn't show up for his weekly visit.

The next week was the same, and the next, until finally Madge accepted that maybe Gale had gotten exactly what he wanted from their interactions.

Even if he hadn't bragged about it.

By the time she'd given up on him, her more pressing problem had come to her attention.

The first missed cycle barely registered with her, she'd been too wrapped up in embarrassment to notice, then the second slipped by as easily. By the third, she'd begun to feel run down, more than just normal exhaustion, and that's when she finally remembered.

By her own estimations she's almost six months along now.

She's been lucky, the bulky winter clothing has helped her keep her secret, but the spring will come soon, and with it warmer weather. It'll be impossible to convince people she's freezing once the southern breezes start blowing in.

It'll be even harder to explain the sudden appearance of a baby.

Still, she hasn't been able to confide in her parents. She already knows what fate awaits her.

There'll be no choice, Mayor's daughter or not, she'll be shipped off to a home for unwed mothers in Nine or Ten. It's just how it is.

Once she'd realized just what kind of trouble her moment of passion had won her, she'd stopped volunteering for the Friday spot. Time was preciously short, and she didn't want to waste a moment with her parents. She'd even considered quitting her job, but had dismissed the idea. It would only draw more attention to her, possibly expose her sooner.

Despite the situation, she still holds onto the sliver of hope that something will save her.

Her dad will pluck the answer to her salvation from thin air or maybe Mr. Abernathy will pay someone off once she plucks up the courage to tell them.

They're both ludicrous dreams, but they're all she's got.

A few times she's considered telling Gale, but each time she's walked away more confused and frightened than before.

The first time, just after she'd discovered the pregnancy, she tried to catch him after work as he walked past the office.

He'd flat out ignored her, stomping past with his friend Thom at his side, jabbering about the girl Gale had last taken to the slag heap.

That had done little to bolster her confidence.

The second time had been a few weeks later, when Madge was good and furious about the whole situation.

That time, she'd found him behind the cleaning building, wrapped so tightly in the arms of a dark haired girl from the Seam, her hands pulling at his clothes, that he hadn't even noticed Madge coming around the corner.

After that her desire to tell him had waned, resulting in a long stretch of time before her finally attempt.

It was snowing, her feet were numb in the boots Mr. Abernathy had brought her from the Capitol despite the fluffy lining inside.

She'd ducked out right after the whistle had blown, determined to catch Gale when he got off the elevator.

The chains had made loud, grinding noises as they lifted the men up, mixing with their low voices, discussing things as they emerged.

Standing on her tip toes, Madge watched for Gale, and after a few minutes, he emerged.

He was filthy, sweat smeared with coal dust and dirt, but he was smiling, happy to be done for the day.

Madge's determination crumbled at his smile.

He had so much on his shoulders, had already raised children, supported a family. Maybe that was why he didn't want a real relationship, only quick moments of flesh and sweat, maybe he'd had enough of the family life.

The thought was enough to stop Madge cold. She didn't even consider telling him after that.

Besides, she finally decided she didn't want him to feel obligated to her. He'd made a mistake with her and he shouldn't feel like he had to make anything up to her. That's not the life she wants for her baby, or for Gale.

She might be furious with him for the mess he's helped her into, but she doesn't hate him. It isn't in her.

This is her problem. She'll deal with it herself.

She just wishes she knew how to.

The baby shifts inside her, putting pressure on her bladder, something it does more and more often lately, and Madge gets up to go to the bathroom.

"I'll be right back," she tells no one in particular, not that anyone cares.

She's only gone a few minutes, but it's all the time the other women need to pack up for the day and abandon her to her first Friday evening in months. Since she'd stopped volunteering in the hopes of seeing Gale and to spend more time with her parents.

Grumbling to herself about her sore feet and aching back, Madge snatches up the stubs from each of the desks and starts the boring business of filing.

Half an hour has passed when the door creaks open.

"I'm sorry Mr. Abernathy," she tells him over her shoulder. "I got elected to stay late tonight."

He doesn't answer with his customary muttered curses, so Madge turns to see what's stopped him.

She finds herself facing the newly embroidered word 'crew chief' on a filthy mining uniform when she does.

Gale seems taller in his freshly updated uniform, or maybe he's just standing straighter than usual.

"Got a promotion," he tells her, not sounding at all like he's spent months avoiding her after what happened in the closet.

All the frustration and panic, self doubt and loathing she's wrestled with bubble just under the surface of her skin as she gives him a cold, "Congratulations."

He nods, apparently missing the bite in her word.

"Yeah, so I thought maybe I could take you for dinner," he says in a rush, as if he isn't even sure he wants to say the words.

Madge stares at him, dumbfounded by what he's saying.

A full minute passes, fills the air with an uncomfortable silence before Madge fully comprehends what he's asking. Her voice shakes when she finds it.

"You spent months ignoring me, making me feel like a filthy fling after what happened, and now you want to go out for dinner!"

He actually steps back, looking a bit unsettled by her outburst.

"Undersee-"

"Don't," Madge cuts him off. "Don't 'Undersee' me. You don't get to-to screw me in a closet and walk away like it was nothing then just show up and expect me to be okay with a dinner as a thank you!"

His cheeks darken and he steps toward her, his eyes seeming to burning through her.

"I messed up, alright." He inches closer and Madge almost trips backward, but instead bumps into the wall as he closes the space between them. "I-it was intense, okay? A little too intense and I needed to figure things out, I'm sorry it had to hurt you too."

He's too close, a step closer and he'll feel the bump hidden under her layers, but she's frozen in his stare.

When he reaches out and starts to brushes a wayward strand of hair from her face, she comes out of the trance and bats his hand away.

"It's too little too late."

Pushing past him, she's already planning on walking out, ready to forget the filing for the week and deal with the consequences Monday. If she's fired who cares.

Before she can get away though, he catches her by the wrist, his eyebrows knitted together in thought.

"You've put on a little weight," he says after a beat.

Wrenching her wrist from his hand, Madge glares at him.

"Wow, you're such a sweet talker. No wonder you get so many women falling all over you."

He crosses his arms, his gaze unflinching as he takes in her frumpy, padded appearance.

Then his eyes widen.

"You're pregnant."

Madge doesn't respond, just turns and heads to her seat to snatch up her jacket and leave.

Gale won't have it though, catching her around the middle and holding her in place.

"You are pregnant!"

Madge elbows him in the side, temporarily freeing herself.

She spins and glares at him. "So what?"

"So what?" He stammers. "So what?"

"It isn't your problem-"

"It is my problem!"

"Says who?"

Gale closes his eyes, his rough hands scrubbing his face before rubbing up into his hair, tugging at it and standing it on end.

"Madge…" He sighs her name and she feels her insides squirm the same way they had that night.

His eyes, dark and blazing, seem to look right through to her soul as he tries to find his words. Finally, he takes a breath.

"I know it's mine, Madge."

She wants to argue, tell him he doesn't know so much about her, but she can't. The relief at not being the only one to know her secret is too much. She's wanted him to know from the beginning, even if it was just to toss her away, and now he does. There's nothing else to do.

Nodding, Madge laces her fingers together and rests them on her middle, willing herself not to cry.

After a moment, she feels him step closer, reach out and tip her chin up.

"So...how do we do this?"

Madge steadies her breathing and steps back, shrugging.

"Do what?" She asks. "I won't be able to hide this much longer, then it'll be off to the unwed mothers' home."

Gale frowns, his eyebrows scrunched together in confusion.

"Why?"

It's Madge's turn to be confused. Surely he can't be so blinded by his prejudice to think her status can protect her?

If anything, her father's position has made her more vulnerable. What better way to show the Capitol's power than by taking away the child of a man most perceive to be an extension of the government itself?

If the Mayor isn't safe, no one is.

Speaking slowly, and loudly, thinking maybe the machinery in the mines has damaged his hearing, Madge finally says, "Because I'm an unwed mother."

Or she will be soon.

Gale's frown deepens and he shakes his head.

"You won't be." His expression hardens, determined, unyielding. "Because we're going to get married."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I'm just playing with Suzanne Collins' characters and her world. They're hers. Not mine. Any lines from the books are hers too.

Madge stares at him, mouth a little agape, processing what he's said.

Gale swallows, his throat feeling tight, constricting with panic as he waits for her to respond.

He hadn't come to see her intending to propose, but he wasn't going to let her get dragged away over something that was his fault.

Over the years he's harbored more than a little crush on Madge Undersee. She was gorgeous, smart, and absolutely untouchable.

Being all but forbidden had only made her that much more attractive to Gale.

As much as he'd tried to push her away, being rude and nasty at times, each time she got flushed, bright eyed and angry, it only made her prettier. And that only made him madder. It was bad enough she had to be beautiful with her doe eyes and sad smile, but to be even more so when she was arguing just wasn't fair.

Gale wasn't strong enough to fight that temptation.

It had gotten better with his infatuation with Katniss, but once she pushed him away, it all started trickling back in, building into something Gale couldn't ignore.

When she'd started at the mines, it had almost been too much for him. She was a distraction, and he hated her a little for it.

He also loved her for it.

All the men wanted to be in her line for the paychecks. She was, as Thom put it, 'the only thing worth looking at' at their godforsaken job, and Gale couldn't disagree.

Much as he tried not to stare at her, it was like ignoring a fire while freezing.

When Thom, who Gale had used as his excuse to get in her line, came down with the flu, he hadn't been able to stop his feet from carrying him to her line. He needed to see her, even if it was just for a few seconds. She was the only bright spot in his life, a flash of beauty in all the ugliness, and he needed her after his week in the mines.

Sunday's didn't really count, not in his mind. He got to see her, but the whole situation was stained by the person who's started the transaction in the first place.

Katniss.

He still isn't sure what happened to his friend on her Victory Tour.

When she'd come home from the Games things hadn't gone back to normal, not really, but they'd pretended they had.

They'd met in the woods, gone to the Hob, never mentioned the Games or Mellark or star-crossed lovers. It was strained, but it was surviving, and that's what they did best together.

Madge, who'd been such a helpful, informative part of his life during the Games, got pushed aside. She didn't belong in Gale's life anymore than he belonged in hers.

Much as he'd missed having her around, he knew it was for the best.

Delicate people, soft, gentle people, didn't belong in the Seam, around him and people like him. He'd seen what his life did to girls like her, from the Town.

Katniss' mom wouldn't have survived it if not for her daughters. His mind couldn't even dream up a world where someone as pampered and privileged as Madge could live that life, no matter how hard he'd known she'd try.

They were from different worlds and it was better not to pretend otherwise.

Then Katniss had gone on her Tour. She'd come back, but it wasn't really her, at least not in Gale's mind. Something has changed in her, and Gale wasn't given the details. She cut him from her life, and that was that.

No explanation, no concern. He was out and she was with Mellark.

His crush on Katniss eroded with time, breaking down into anger at her for tossing him away. Eventually, he stopped wondering and worrying about her, deciding that if his infatuation could so easily turn nasty, it was never anything to begin with.

Madge didn't belong in Gale's world, and Gale didn't belong in Katniss'. The only difference was, Madge was graceful in rejection. That only cemented her unattainable status in Gale's mind. No one that sweet natured deserved to be trapped near him.

The next few years had dragged by, monotonous and painful, breaking his spirit. The only thing that kept him going were his dates.

He'd never say he was proud of his reputation, which had been more or less a fabrication of Thom's overly creative imagination throughout high school, but as the mines tried to grind the life out of him, he started to embrace it.

He was young, good looking, why shouldn't he have fun?

"It sets a bad image for your brothers and sister," his mom had complained when he'd come home, half drunk with his pants ripped. "I don't want Rory or Vick thinking the way you treat girls is right. And I really don't want Posy thinking that."

Gale had sighed. "I treat them how they want to be treated."

He gave them just what they wanted, exactly what they all expected from a date with Gale Hawthorne.

Even if he did feel a little disgusted with himself every time and hated the look of disappointment it earned him from his mom.

That hadn't stopped him though. He deserved his mom's disgust and the crappy feeling he got every time he lived down to the world's expectations.

When he'd been shorted on his check, it was a gift he definitely didn't deserve, but one he'd grabbed with both hands.

He got to spend an extra few minutes with Madge, alone, and he could use it as an excuse to get out of a Friday night date.

It had taken a week for her to be given the shitty late shift on a Friday, but Gale would've waited more.

Then he'd bungled the whole thing.

He hadn't wanted to be an asshole, but it was too ingrained in him to rile her up. He couldn't stop himself.

"Wanted to get down and dirty with the peasants, huh?"

She'd looked hurt by that, and Gale's stomach had rolled.

Hot and bothered was cute, sexy, hurt and close to tears wasn't.

Rubbing at his neck he'd tried to be nice, and failed spectacularly.

"I just want to know why the Mayor's little princess is getting her shoes dirty at the mines."

"Why do you always get in my line?" She'd snapped back, eyes blazing.

It had caught him off guard, and judging by the cold realization in her eyes, it hadn't come out quite as she intended.

While it wasn't an answer, not really, it was.

Maybe his crush wasn't as one sided as he'd always thought. Madge might've enjoyed exchanging barbs as much as he did, even if her proper nature made her say otherwise.

She might not say as much, but taking a job at the mines got her closer to him, and that meant something.

Madge Undersee liked him. Maybe even had a bit of a crush on him too, and that ignited something in him he couldn't easily put out.

Her next words nearly did snuff it though.

"I mean-are you just looking for a reason to hate me? What've I ever done to you?"

The answer was nothing, except be unattainable, perfect and out of reach, but that answer stuck in his throat.

He finally settled on, "I'm not looking for a reason to hate you, Undersee. I'm just trying to understand you."

Her cheeks had burned brighter under his gaze as she mumbled, "Nothing to understand."

Then she turned away and Gale was stuck staring at her pale hair, wondering if it was half as soft as it looked, his fingers itching to run through it.

Despite his conscience telling him to go, let her be, he'd crossed the room, almost bumping his chest to her back.

He could smell her shampoo, her fancy body wash still clinging to her skin after a day of work, and he wondered if her lips tasted like the strawberries he sold her on Sunday.

When she turned, eyes wide, looking like an animal caught in one of his snares, pale pink lips puckered distractingly, daring him to kiss them, he hadn't been able to stop himself.

"Why come work for the mines?" He asked again, pinning her between his body and the cabinets. His mouth moved faster than his good sense. "Looking to slum it?"

She shoved him so hard he nearly tripped backward, startling him into laughter.

"If I were, it wouldn't be with you."

"It would be."

She didn't argue, but she also didn't tell him if she'd volunteered to work the shit shift when he'd asked.

He had to watch from the shadows, like he did on the days when he was making sure that filthy drunk made it there to walk her home, checking to see which woman drew the short straw.

It took two more weeks for it to be Madge again. Two more weeks for him to blow it again.

She'd actually cried that time, succeeding in making Gale feel even more lousy than he normally did after talking to her.

Even if he'd been able to recover the situation, got to hold her hand and help her up, get the tiniest smile out of her with his jab at Abernathy and his weird fascination with her, he'd made her cry. He was too coarse, to hard to be playing with a girl like Madge.

Still, when he'd seen that she was working the next Friday, he'd gone in again.

It was torture, but one he enjoyed too much.

It was a bubble, surreal and wonderful, and he memorized every moment of it.

The end of their dates didn't end on quite the same note as his others, but he loved every moment up to the end.

Most of the time she asked about his siblings, and he got the impression she actually missed the little terrors. His brothers had missed her, still mentioned her and her amazing bust line occasionally. He doubted Madge's memory of them recorded just how perverted the little bastards were even when they were younger.

Gale wasted his questions trying to break his own heart.

He'd ask about her evenings, ask how many boys had proposed, if she could lift her hand under the weight of the ring.

She'd roll her eyes and fire back with a sharp quip, making it abundantly clear there were no dates, no boys, and no weddings in her future.

It would've been easier if there had been. If she'd given him a reason to douse the torch he was carrying for her, kill his hope, maybe he could've moved on.

The death blow never came though.

"What about Abernathy? You telling me he hasn't popped the question yet?"

He was only half joking.

Dirty, cranky, drunken asshole Haymitch Abernathy had some unnatural attachment to Madge, and Gale wasn't the only one that noticed.

"That girl needs to watch her back," one of the men at the Hob had said. "She's a pretty one, probably reminds him of the whores at the Capitol."

Madge wouldn't hear a word against him though.

In the end, Gale supposes she was right. It wasn't Abernathy she needed to watch out for. It was him.

He'd wanted to blame the heat, the broken air conditioner he'd grown so fond of, but the reality was, they'd been building to a boiling point for a while. It was inevitable.

There was an attraction between them and Gale had fanned it by continuing to show up every Friday.

Maybe part of him had had hoped she'd be the sensible one, slap some sense into him, but she hadn't. Madge had been every bit as caught up in the moment as he had.

She was pure oxygen to his fire, and the end result was predictable. They were both consumed.

The scent of her skin, the softness of her hair, the little moans she made as he'd moved against her, are all still seared on his memory, keeping him up at night and making his days bearable.

It had been one moment in ecstasy that he'd done nothing to deserve, and would never be able to earn.

He'd wanted to stay with her, tangled in her body, her breath and sweat mingling with his, but he couldn't. It scared him how much he wanted to stay with her. She deserved so much more than he'd ever be able to provide, and the thought of failing her was too intense.

One way or another, he'd hurt her. It was best to do it early, before the damage was too great.

So he'd gathered up their clothes and gone, leaving Madge with a fragile expression on her delicate features. She thought he used her, and maybe that was for the best. She wouldn't make the same mistake she'd made with him with any other guy.

It was a hard lesson to learn, and even harder to dish out, but it was one she needed.

In some twisted way, he was glad it was him that taught it to her. He could keep his mouth shut, protect her reputation, a lot of other guys would drag her through the mud for the sake of their own egos.

That's how he comforted himself anyways.

He'd ignored her after that, hoping she'd see what a shitty person he was, see she was better off without him and move on to some nice guy from Town that could give her things, treat her nice.

She'd tried to talk to him at least once that he knew of. It had been some kind of sick fortune that his latest fling, a girl whose name he doesn't even remember now, had come up to see him, catching him after he'd washed up in the giant filthy tubs the mining company provided.

Madge had come around the corner of the tin metal building and almost immediately turned back.

He knows she'd been looking for him, there was no other explanation for her being around the wash building, and it had given him some kind of weird satisfaction having her see him like that.

Gale was a jerk, a user, not good for her, and she needed to see that. His life was quick rolls behind crappy buildings and no talking after, she deserved better.

If he'd known he was going to get promoted he wouldn't have pushed her away quite so hard.

It wasn't enough to make him good enough for her, but it at least gave him a bit more status. That was something, and the doubt ebbed a bit.

Maybe he'd be good enough some day. That's what he started telling himself.

The nagging voice inside his head, the one that sounded suspiciously like his mom and had been keeping him up at night, ever since he'd run off on Madge, began to get more insistent after that. Then images of Madge's miserable face, her hurt expression when she'd seen him kissing that girl, had started haunted him.

Sleep became increasingly restless, not at all relaxing or calming.

After that he'd catch glimpses of Madge, head down, dressing more and more drably, until finally he couldn't avoid it anymore. It was his fault she was fading away, and he had to fix it. Assure her it wasn't her fault.

Gale was the one with the problem. He was the one that got spooked by how much he wanted her but couldn't take care of her.

It was his problem, not hers.

He owed Madge more than dinner, he owed her more than just an explanation, but it was as good as he could do for now. Making it up to her would have to come slowly, at least that had been the plan.

If he'd know what she was trying to tell him he definitely wouldn't have tried to do such a good job of being an absolute louse.

It wasn't his problem now, and it wasn't just hers. It was theirs.

Finally, the silence gets too thick and Gale has to break it.

"We can go tomorrow and get the papers," he starts talking. "The Justice Building is open until noon on Saturday. Maybe your dad can speed up the appl-"

"I'm not marrying you, Gale," she cuts him off, wrapping a protective arm across her middle.

He scowls. "Why not?"

She'd said it herself. The pregnancy will be impossible to hide in a few weeks and then they'll ship her off. They need to do it sooner than later.

"You don't want to marry me."

Since Katniss had blown him off he hadn't wanted to marry anyone, hadn't wanted a family. He had enough people depending on him.

Madge is the exception though. He'd marry her, pregnant or not.

The fact that she's got his baby growing in her does make the process a little more urgent, but the end sum is the same.

"Of course I do. You're pregnant. It's mine. We're getting married."

Wasn't she the smart one? This was simple.

"That isn't enough."

It certainly seemed to be for Gale.

"I don't want to marry someone who doesn't love me."

She seems to shrink in front of him, retreating into herself, and Gale feels his chest tighten.

This looks like obligation to her, and he knows nothing he says will change that. He's spent months making her think she was an easy lay for him. No sudden declaration is going to erase that.

He's dug his own grave, now he's got to climb out.

"Look," he tries to reason with her, "would you rather get shipped off to live with a bunch of strangers than marry me?"

He knows he's said the wrong thing the instant the words leave his mouth.

Her teeth grind and her eyes seem to freeze him on the spot.

"After how you've treated me the past few months, I'll happily take the strangers."

And with that she snatches up her jacket and storms out, leaving Gale standing in a pile of pay stubs that had blown to the floor, contemplating just how he's going to fix the mess he's made.

#######

The only light on at the Mayor's house is the kitchen one when Gale finally makes his way there.

He'd gone home first and confessed to his mom what a complete asshole he is.

She'd been appropriately disgusted.

"Gale Hawthorne," she'd sighed, burying her face in her work worn hands. "I have never been so ashamed of you."

"I know," he grumbled. "I screwed up."

"You went passed screwing up when you walked out on that poor girl," she pointed out, still not a ole to look at him. Finally, she sat up, eyes narrowed on him. "Gale, you're going to fix this."

She wouldn't accept anything less.

"How?" He asked. "She hates me."

"I don't blame her."

"Thanks."

"Baby," she wrapped an arm around his shoulder and kissed his hair. "I love you more than life itself, but you made a pig's ear of this."

And if he wanted a silk purse he was the only one that could do it.

"Just show her you care. Get her to see that you're a good guy."

He wanted to tell her he wasn't a good guy, he's a genuine article dirtbag, but couldn't force himself to say the words.

His mom's good opinion of him, even if it's more than a little tarnished now, means the world to him.

Instead, he'd smiled, kissed her cheek, and promised to make things right.

He hoped it wasn't a lie.

So he'd decided to talk to Madge again, on her ground this time, give her the upper hand.

When he knocks on the door the housekeeper answers, her ancient face pulled back in a scowl.

"What?"

Ignoring her tone, Gale forces a smile. "I came to see Madge."

She narrows her hawk-like eyes, inspecting him closer, cataloging ever smear of dirt and fleck of mud on his pants and shirt.

"I know you," she huffs. "Ran out of girls in the Seam to screw?"

Grinding his teeth, Gale forces himself to not snap.

"No."

"Just making a special exception for the brat then," she laughs to herself, a little wheezy. "I always knew she'd end up in the gutter."

He starts to tell her that isn't what he meant, but gets hung up on her cold regard for Madge.

It's barely processed in his head when she tells him to stay outside.

"I'll get the girl."

The door shuts with a snap and Gale glares at the lacy curtains through the glass as he waits.

It's nearly ten minutes later when Madge finally emerges.

She's puffy eyed, and Gale has the sinking suspicion she'd been crying, maybe since they'd talked earlier. Her nightgown does a poorer job of hiding her stomach than her sweater and frumpy skirt, and Gale can't believe her parents and that awful housekeeper have failed to noticed the reason for her weight gain.

Sighing, she presses her palms to her forehead, physically holding off a headache. "What do you want, Gale?"

His mouth dries as he tries to think of what he'd planned out to say. It had sounded eloquent in his head, no way she could argue against it.

Instead, he glares.

Standing in front her steals his wits, reduces him down to his dullest parts, and that means falling back on his tried and failed habits.

"Changed your mind yet?"

Eyes narrowing, she turns on her heels. "No."

Catching her by the elbow, Gale tries to recover, no more smoothly than his first attempt.

"Un-Madge wait." He grits his teeth, hating himself for what he's about to say but unable to stop himself saying it. "Think about the baby."

"I am," she snaps. "And I think it'd be better off with no father at all than one that sees it as a consequence and not a blessing."

"I don't see it as a consequence." Whatever that means.

It's a duty, but it would be that even if they were married already. He's its dad, and he won't abandon it. Even if she wants him to.

"You do. You see it and me as mistakes you're stuck with and I won't let my baby grow up feeling like a burden."

She wasn't lying when she said she was thinking about the baby, Gale sees that. Madge is going to be a good mother. She already is.

Her arms wrap around her body protectively and her chin quivers.

"I may not have many choices left, but I know the one I do have. Go find one of your 'dates' and leave me alone. I can take care of myself, and anyone else that comes along."

With one last blazing look, she starts to turn to go, but freezes, her eyes locked on something just over Gale's shoulder.

The blood seems to drain from her face and she swallows thickly.

"Dad?"

Spinning, Gale finds himself staring at the Mayor, his thinning hair badly combed over his balding head and his expression panicked.

"Oh, Pearl," he whispers. "What trouble have you gotten yourself into?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I'm just playing with Suzanne Collins' characters and her world. They're hers. Not mine. Any lines from the books are hers too.

The couch feels stiffer than normal to Madge, bigger, makes her feel like she's a little kid again about to be scolded for listening at key holes.

Only it was her father who'd been listening in, not at keyholes but around the side of the house while smoking his cigar and trying to see if the daffodils had survived to sprout again.

"How far along are you?" He asks, his voice tired, fingers massaging his temples.

This is why she'd kept the pregnancy to herself. It's an inconvenience and trouble, and she'd wanted to have a plan before she finally told him.

Even if that plan didn't form until she was having contractions.

"Six months, almost."

Nodding absently, her father sits back, puts his cigar back in his mouth and sighs.

He's stressed, Madge can tell. He'd never risk upsetting Mrs. Oberst by smoking in the house otherwise.

"You've offered to marry her?" He asks Gale, his eyes still focused on the swirling smoke winding up from the end of his increasingly short cigar.

Gale, already stiff and uncomfortable looking, half perched at the edge of the couch cushion, nods a little too forcefully. "Yeah-yes, sir."

He's nervous, even in the low yellow light of her father's office Madge can see he's sweating, little beads of perspiration forming in his hairline and along his lip, there's a tremor in his jaw, and he's fighting the anxious bounce in his leg. There's good reason to be. Aside from the head Peacekeeper, her father has the most power in the District, even if it seems ceremonial most of the time. If he wanted to, her father could make Gale's life hell.

Instead of saying anything, acknowledging Gale's spoken, her father just nods again.

Slowly, the acrid smoke from the cigar filters around them, stifling Madge's senses, making her feel even more silly and sluggish than she had before.

Finally, her father sits forward and snuffs out the burning stub in the lone glass ashtray.

"Mr. Hawthorne, if you would, please wait in the hall. I'd like a moment with my daughter."

Gale opens his mouth, then snaps it back shut, unable to stammer out another 'yes, sir'.

Without a word, Gale gets up, gives Madge a worried glance that she doesn't acknowledge, stuffs his hands in his pockets and leaves, shutting the door softly behind him.

For a few minutes her father doesn't speak, just watches her with his weary eyes, looking decades older in the minutes since he'd learned he was going to be a grandfather. A little smile twitches at the edges of his lips.

"You'd do this all on your own if they'd let you, wouldn't you, Pearl?"

She isn't sure if it's praise or exasperation, so she just nods.

Sitting forward again, he puts his elbows to his knees, rests his forehead against his palms, and sighs.

"Magdalene, you know you can't. You know what's going to happen."

"I know dad-"

"You know what will happen to you, but do you realize what might happen to the district?" He cuts her off, his focus up, all on her. "They might strip me of my title, decide that if I can't even control my own child what good could I be doing for the district. Maybe I haven't been able to do much good, but what little I have accomplished will be undone."

Madge's stomach sinks, ice seems to run through her veins.

She hadn't even considered the way her lapse in judgment might affect anyone besides herself and maybe Gale. It had never occurred to her that the worst wasn't just her being sent away.

The more she thinks, actually considers the implications of what he's saying, the worse things seem.

"Mom," she whispers, eyes locking with her father's. "Mom won't be able to get her medicine if you lose your position."

She may not feel like she owes the District anything, not after all the years if derision and scorn she's put up with, but she can't condemn it.

And she definitely can't push her mother through withdrawal. She loves her, even if she's not always the most attentive mother.

"I think losing you would hurt her more than giving up her morphling," her father tells her, his eyebrows drooping.

Madge isn't so sure, but doesn't argue. Her mind is too busy coming to the only resolution to the problem she's created.

"I've always given you a wide berth, Magdalene," her father whispers. "I've never made your decisions for you, and I won't start now, but please consider the whole picture."

Her whole life he's urged her to forgive the people who wrong her, help the less fortunate, and even now he's asking her to think about the needs of people who wouldn't spare her spit if she were burning.

It isn't fair, but it's his nature.

It's Madge's nature too.

Reaching out, he takes her hands, gives them a squeeze.

"If none of that sways you, think of me." His eyes shimmer as he smiles at her. "You're my little girl, no matter how big you get. I don't know if I'd make it if they took you."

Madge forces a smile, sending tears spilling down her cheeks.

"You should've started with that," she blubbers, lunging forward and squishing beside him in his chair, wrapping her arms around him.

Kissing the top of her head, he takes a shuddering breath, holds her closer.

"I know it's not ideal," he tells her as his cigar smoke more firmly envelops her, "but...we'll figure it out."

More tears spill out as she nods against his dress shirt.

"If he upsets you badly enough, at least we have Haymitch," he tells her, pulling back and wiping his face. "He claims to know people that can make problems disappear."

Madge snorts. "Fantastic, I'll be a widow then."

He chuckles wryly, still sounding a bit wet. "Widows don't get sent off at least."

Nodding, Madge bites her lip and looks to the door, dreading what she has to do. "I guess I'm getting married then."

Squeezing her shoulders, her father presses another kiss to her hair.

"Congratulations, darling"

#######

When the door to the Mayor's office opens Gale almost trips jumping back.

He'd been trying to listen at the lock, curious what both the Mayor and Madge were thinking, but they'd been talking too quietly and he hadn't heard a word.

"Mr. Hawthorne," the Mayor says his name, not coolly, but firm, almost like one of the teachers at school when they'd called on him to ask a question he had no hope of answering. "My daughter would like a word with you."

Stuffing his hands back in his pockets, Gale nods and silently walks back into the room, letting the Mayor close the door behind him.

Madge is still sitting on the couch, her hands in her lap, toying with a loose thread on one of the decorative pillows.

She doesn't hear him walk up, too focused on the ground in front of her, so Gale clears his throat. It startles her and the pillow topples out of her hands, onto the ground with a plop.

"Oh, Gale."

There's more than a little distraction in her voice, and she brushes hair from her face, begins twirling one of the strands between her finger before finally closing her eyes and sighing.

Then she stands.

"I'll marry you."

For half a heartbeat Gale feels elated, happy she's come to her senses, then the happiness sours in his throat.

"I don't want you to if your dad is making you."

She pinched the bridge of her nose. "But using my baby as emotional blackmail is fine?"

"I was trying to reason with you," he snarls. "It's just logic doesn't work on you."

"It works on me just fine," she mutters, right before fixing him in a frustrated glare. "So do you not want to get married now?"

He frowns at her, his minds barely functioning.

"Well, yeah," he stammers, still confused. "But-"

"Then be at the Justice Building by eight," she grumbles, stomping past him. She stops just long enough to give him one last weary look, "Go home and get some rest, Gale. I'll see you in the morning."

Then she's gone, and Gale's left standing in the smoky office not really sure if he's won a battle or not.

Finally, after a few stunned minutes, he shakes off the confusion and leaves the room.

All the doors in the hall are closed, and he wonders which one is Madge's. He considers picking one and trying to find her, trying to talk some more, but he know he'd only screw up again. Besides, the possibility of accidentally walking in on her mom or that nasty housekeeper kills that thought.

Taking the steps two at a time, he reaches the kitchen and hurries out the door, now trying to figure out what he's going to tell his mom.

"I suppose congratulations are in order."

Gale freezes, his insides squirming, feeling like he's been caught doing something filthy with Madge by her dad.

Which, Gale thinks grimly, he has.

Keeping his expression neutral, he turns to where the Mayor is standing, smoking another foul smelling cigar.

Without thinking, Gale speaks. "Not if you're Madge."

A tiny smile flicks at the edges of the Mayor's mouth.

"She isn't happy, but she knows it's for the best." He gives Gale a narrow look. "I hope you know I won't tolerate your dalliances once you're married to my daughter. She's suffered enough humiliation at your hands, I think."

Much as he wants to argue that he hadn't set out to hurt her, he keeps his mouth shut. The Mayor's right.

"Yes, sir." Gale forces his voice to stay strong. "I'm going to take care of her, and the baby. I'm going to be a good husband and dad."

"I hope so," the Mayor says. "I daresay, if you do step out on her, hurt her, you'll have more than just myself to contend with."

Gale isn't quite sure what that means, but it sounds close to a threat, and he isn't fool enough to ignore it.

"I didn't mean to hurt her, for any of this to happen," he tries to explain, wanting Madge's dad to at least understand that the whole mess was nothing but a series of shitty events. "I cared about her, I still do. I just…"

As he grapples for the word, the Mayor chuckles.

"Got swept up?"

That isn't quite right, but Gale shrugs anyway.

His eyes drop to the ground and he rubs at his neck, ready to go home and explain the strange situation to his mom, but stops when he feels a hand on his shoulder.

The Mayor is only a little taller than Madge, slight, but his grip is strong, and Gale gets the impression if he wanted he could do plenty of damage without a Peacekeeper's aid.

"Gale, I don't blame you for the situation. Madge did everything of her own free will." He smiles sadly. "But in our world, young ladies are judged much more harshly than young men, given far fewer freedoms, you're very aware of that. I don't want to lose my little girl. Were things different, if they'd allow Madge to raise this baby on her own, I'd support her."

Without Gale. He has no confidence in his future son-in-law, and he wants him to know it.

"Even if they'd let her raise it herself, I'd still want to marry her," Gale tells him, wanting him to know the situation makes it necessary, but even under different circumstances he'd still want his daughter.

"And I'm glad to hear it." He puffs on his cigar, watching the smoke swirl up and vanish into the overhang. "Madge would be twice as obstinate, but I think she'd eventually say yes."

Gale feels his mouth drop open a little.

"She's like her mother, you know, a bit of a romantic, even if she'd argue she isn't. She wouldn't be in this situation if she didn't care for you."

That gives Gale a little hope. If she'd cared then, she still has to care now. She wouldn't be so furious if she didn't.

Maybe there's still a chance to fix things.

He supposes he'll have a lifetime to try.

"Thank you, uh, Mr. Mayor."

"Daniel," he corrects him. "We're about to be family, after all."

#######

The Justice building is silent when Gale gets there the next morning.

His mom comes with him, constantly smashing down his hair and smoothing out the front of his dress shirt. It was one of his dad's that she'd held on to; hoping one of the boys would grow into it eventually.

"You need to look nice," she'd reminded him. "You need to make a good impression."

He'd almost told her it didn't matter, Madge was out of choices, it was Gale or doom, but kept the thought to himself. He feels lousy enough without voicing what a jerk he is.

Madge is caught in a snare, and now he's about to drag her home and use her for his own gain.

Because he's the one getting all the benefit, as far as he can see. Status, respect for landing a girl from Town, the daughter of the Mayor no less and a stunner on top of that. He'll be the envy of all the miners.

Madge will get nasty rumors and snide remarks, scorn for having trapped Gale in marriage.

The Mayor was right, she got the raw deal no matter what.

So he'd let his mom fight his hair and fuss over his clothes. Madge deserves him to put in the effort. People will be watching, and he wants them to know he takes his vows seriously, takes Madge seriously.

"You didn't have to come," he tells his mom as she tries to smooth out her own dress. "I got myself into this. I'm a big boy."

He desperately wanted her to be there though. It's a relief to have her at his side.

"You're always going to be my baby," she tells him, finally looking up and sighing. "Even if I want to strangle you sometimes."

They hadn't told his siblings, just left a note that they'd be back sometime after noon. It had been too late the night before, and none of the kids would wake before nine on the weekend. It's another relief to Gale. He doesn't want to explain the whole situation to his pervy brothers or nosey sister before it's absolutely necessary.

Gale glances around, wondering where Madge is, it's five after, when his mom pulls him back down by the ear, licks her hand, and smashes it into an unruly patch of hair at the side of his head.

"Mom," he grunts, pulling away.

"It just keeps-it's just like Ash's, won't stay put," she mutters to herself, finally giving up when Gale straightens out, putting his hair just barely out of her reach. She sighs, eyeing it in annoyance. "At least you shaved."

Stuffing his hands into his pockets, Gale glares at the ground, still wondering when Madge is going to show up.

He's seconds from going outside, he needs some fresh air, when he hears soft footsteps crossing toward him and his mom.

Madge stops just short of them, her expression unreadable.

He'd almost call it ill looking, with her pale skin and the blue bags under her eyes, but he doubts it's a true sickness. She's probably been up all night, worrying about today undoubtedly.

She looks a bit like a little kid, wearing shoes that don't really look to fit her and an expensive looking dress that seems a bit too loose, both probably borrowed.

"Pretty dress," he tells her not really thinking.

It's the truth, it's a very nice dress. Probably worth more than his whole house, and the thought makes his stomach turn. Her lifestyle is going to take a definite hit with this marriage.

Madge stares at him, nose scrunching up, probably trying to work out if he's messing with her or not, when his mom grabs her and pulls her into a hug.

"I'm so sorry how this worked out."

For a moment Madge stays stiff, awkwardly gripped in his mom's hug, then she relaxes a little, patting her back.

"It's okay."

His mom pulls back, eyes shining. "No, it isn't." Her eyes drop, down to Madge's middle, and she sighs. "But I'm still excited."

The tense look slips a little as Madge carefully pulls her coat tighter, protectively around her belly, still somewhat hidden in the too big dress.

"Me too."

Gale's mouth is full of sand, keeps him from talking, but his mom does enough for the both of them anyway.

"I thought the May-your dad would come." She frowns, peering over Madge's shoulder, quickly adding, "Or your mother."

Madge forces a smile, it doesn't reach her eyes.

"My dad had a meeting. He said he'd stop by when it let out." Her smile falters. "And my mom...she had a headache."

Gale doesn't think a headache is much of a reason to abandon her only child on such an important day, but Madge looks at ease with it.

It actually makes him feel worse about the situation. He's got his mom, who even on her worst days, or on Gale's worst days, wouldn't leave him to fend for himself. Madge is at her most vulnerable and she's got no one.

He wants to reach out and comfort her, but he doubts she'd want it.

It's better coming from his mom, and she seems to sense that as she pulls Madge back into another hug.

"That's okay," his mom tries to recover the moment. "Maybe your dad will get a copy of the official photo."

That seems like poor consolation to Gale for missing the real thing, but swallows down the thought. They're Madge's parents, and even if he thinks they're shitty, that counts for something.

The doors to the official document room makes a loud grinding noises as they're pushed open, and Gale sees Madge flinch at the commotion.

An old gray haired woman hobbles around, rolls a small sign with the words 'marriage certificates, birth certificates, and notary' stamped on it with peeling letters, posted atop a heavy looking brass pole with a fat bottom, and lodges the door open with it before vanishing back inside.

Gale licks his lips and takes a breath, gesturing to the door. "Now or never."

If the look on Madge's face is anything to go by, 'never' would be fine.

She shakes it off though, smiles weakly.

"Alright," her voice almost breaks. "Let's go."

#######

Madge's hand shakes as she signs her name one last time as Madge Undersee.

It's unfair she can't at least keep her name. They're going to take her away from her home and her parents, she should at least get to keep her name.

That's against the rules though. Her name has to match her new status as a wife. It makes her feel like property though, changing hands.

That's the price she has to pay for the freedom she so briefly enjoyed. For getting pregnant and keeping it. She refuses to regret that though.

Still, she half hopes her father will storm in and stop her, tell her he has some until now unknown power to save her from this marriage of convenience.

He doesn't though. There's no power to save her and she knows it.

Gale's hand doesn't shake, it stays steady and firm, forming his name in a very untidy scrawl, just like he had on the form Madge had rewritten for him when he'd been shorted his hours.

She vaguely wonders if he never practiced his penmanship much, probably not. Most of the miners have pitiful signatures, actually...

Maybe it's something to do with handling mining equipment all day...

She's drawn out of her musings by the loud thump of a heavy stamp on the stack of forms in front of her.

"Just a few more signatures," the old woman wheezes, shuffling the papers. "This one combines the banking accounts, and this one is for your house payment and utilities."

She pushes the forms toward them.

It only takes two hours for them to sign all the forms, for 'Magdalene Undersee' to be dissolved and be replaced by 'Magdalene Hawthorne'.

It seems like too short a time for something that seems so monumental to happen to Madge, but that's it. With one final loud thud, the 'Undersee' is erased from her name.

"It's going to take a while to process the forms," the old woman tells them as she shows them the lonely waiting room, telling them to sit and be patient. "Nothing good comes from rushing things."

Madge almost laughs at that.

Then they're alone, left in the cool of the waiting area.

The couches are rough and worn, the cheap velvet rubbed bare in patches on the arms from decades of nervous soon-to-be weds thrumming their fingers on it and the curtains filthy with thick, sticky dust that make the green appear gray.

It's not welcoming, but Madge supposes it was never meant to be. The Capitol doesn't care if its charges are comfortable.

As the first hour creeps by, Gale gets up and paces, and Madge wishes she had asked her father to push the forms through and speed up the application. She doesn't know how much more waiting she can stand.

The sun slowly inches up in the sky, peeking in the dusty windows and heating the couch, fogging Madge's head, making her eyelids droop further and further down.

It's too much, combined with the restless, sleepless night she'd had the night before.

She doesn't remember falling asleep, just feeling herself slump over into something firm and warm, being surrounded by the scent of wind and freshly laundered clothes.

The clock chiming noon is what wakes her up, startling her bolt upright on the couch.

She rubs her eyes and squints into the dusty sunlight, not quite remembering where she is or why she's there until she feels the cushions shifting beside her.

Gale stretches, yawning broadly before frowning at her.

"They still not finished?"

Madge shrugs, but his mother is slightly more helpful. Apparently she alone hadn't succumbed to the lull of the room.

"She said they were having to override some of the paperwork," she explains.

That doesn't make much sense to Madge, there's nothing to override. It's all automated.

Frustratingly slow, but automated.

There's no work to do, the women's jobs would be almost entirely obsolete if not for the copying and filing for the archaic paper documents the Districts are made to keep.

It only takes so long normally because the Capitol refuses to invest in updating the computers and the connections. They're from before the time of Panem and prone to breakdown.

But a breakdown isn't an override, and the term is worrying.

She doesn't get a chance to wonder at it long though before the old woman comes back out, giving them a gummy grin.

"All done!"

Getting up, Madge straightens her dress, grateful it's looser than her first choice, her old Reaping dress.

It had been so tight she hadn't been able to fasten it at the back the evening before when she'd tried it on.

Her first plan had been to wear a heavy coat over it, but when she'd tried to bend over to fix her shoes the seam at the middle had ripped badly. The dress wasn't fit to wear anywhere, let alone her wedding. Even if it was for show, she wanted the illusion that it wasn't.

So she'd snuck into her mother's closet and quietly began rummaging through her formal wear, hoping to find something suitable and avoid the embarrassment of having to get her dress repaired and let out the next morning at the seamstress.

She'd almost succeeded, but ended up tripping over her own feet trying to get up from behind one of her mother's boxes of old pictures.

"What are you doing in here, love?" Her mother had asked, blinking blearily in at her.

"Just...looking for a dress," Madge explained. "I'm done now."

Stepping past the discarded clothes on the floor, her mother dropped down beside her, taking the dress from her hands and frowning.

"Why?"

"I have a-a meeting tomorrow."

Her mother frowned, running her delicate hands over the coarse material of the old dress.

"Why kind of meeting?"

Madge started to lie, but there was no point. Her mother would know soon enough.

Taking a breath, Madge closed her eyes.

"For my wedding."

Her mother didn't make so much as a gasp, just stayed strangely silent.

Peeking out, Madge frowned as her mother simply stared down at the dress, her lip puckered.

"Is it the boy who got you pregnant?"

Madge didn't answer, just stared at her in wonder at her perceptiveness.

Finally, her mother seemed to notice her confusion and reached out, taking her hand.

"Oh love, I'm not so clueless."

All the frustration bubbled over, all the worry she'd bottled up the past few months finally spilled over.

She'd cried for an hour, maybe two, before she dried out, no tears left to shed.

"Come here," her mother prompted her, tugging her up and toward the back of the closet.

Reaching up, standing on her tip toes, she'd pulled down a yellowed box, torn and ragged at the edges from the far left corner of the closet.

"This was my mother's," she'd explained, giving Madge a small smile. "You aren't the first Donner girl to put your carriage ahead of your horses."

It was plain but pretty, simple lace at the sleeves and a high waist. Perfect to hide the reason for an impromptu marriage.

"She was about five months out, I think, but with twins."

Slipping the dress over her head, Madge had felt relief.

"It'll work."

The shoes were a half size too big, but Madge couldn't bring herself to separate them. Besides, nothing else seemed to work with the dress.

"I'm not invited, am I?"

Turning back, Madge felt her heart crack.

"No, momma," she whispered.

There was no telling what people would say to her if they noticed, say about her, and she couldn't expose her mother to that. There was no telling what the ridicule would do to her.

"I want you there, I do, but-"

"But I can't be," her mother finished, a sad smile hanging on her lip. Reaching out, she'd pulled Madge into a hug. "I understand, love."

That had replenished Madge's tears.

Despite the snub, her mother had gotten up and helped Madge with her hair, tying it up in a length of silk and kissing her cheek.

"You're such a lovely bride."

Madge feels anything but lovely now, as she totters after the old woman, Gale at her heels and his mother left waiting on the couch.

They stop in front of the desk as the old woman pulls out the newly printed papers and inspects them over the top of her glasses.

"Well, it's all done, sorry for the delay," she tells them in her raspy, wheezy voice. "All that's left is the picture."

She directs them to a plain black backdrop, decorated with a dusty vase filled with dirty, faded, fake flowers before shuffling behind the ancient camera a few feet away.

"Act like you like each other!"

She means it as a joke, but Madge feels Gale stiffen next to her.

Before the old woman can notice anything, Madge grabs Gale's hand and wraps it around her shoulder, twining her own around his middle and forcing her most convincing smile.

Gale frowns, looking down at her, but quickly catches on, his fingers inching down and curling at her waist.

"One, two, three!"

The flash temporarily blinds Madge, fills her eyes with stars and light, but she blinks it away.

"Oh, that's a pretty one," the woman crones, beckoning them with a crooked finger. "Prettiest couple I've photographed in a good long while."

It is a good picture, Madge decides, when she's handed it, protected by a little brown paper cover.

They genuinely look happy, maybe even in love. She'd think so if she didn't know better.

After that they're given their documents, officially declared husband and wife, and given the key to their new home. That explains the delay.

"Guess your dad did pull some strings," Gale says, not sounding mad or disgusted, more awed.

Their home is at the edge of the Seam, houses normally reserved for foremen. Men not high ranking enough to get homes in the little neighborhood sectioned off for government workers, like where she'd lived before her father became mayor, but nicer than the little shanty houses that comprise the rest of the Seam.

It's right at the corner, if Madge is remembering the numbering system correctly. Probably has the biggest yard.

Studying the key, Mrs. Hawthorne sighs, then looks at Madge.

"It's very nice of him."

Madge nods. It is, though she isn't sure he should have.

She shakes the thought away. He's her father. He's allowed to take care of her, no matter what anyone else thinks.

Reaching out, Madge takes the key and turns it over in her hand.

This is her new life, and this is the key that opens it.

It also locks her old life behind her.

The baby jumps inside her and she sighs.

Key or not, husband or not, her old life is over. There's no going back.

Handing the key back to Gale, Madge schools her expression into something she hopes resembles brave.

"Let's go home."

#######

They manage to avoid most people as they make their way toward the Seam. Gale even waves off curious friends a few times, despite their confused looks. They need to talk before they start discussing things with anyone.

There'll be talk enough going on without their input anyway, people spinning tales all their own. Madge half thinks she should let them keep their fantasies. There's not much entertainment for them otherwise.

Gale's mother leaves them as they turn down the gravel road to their new house.

"This is something you should do together."

Madge wishes she'd stayed. It made things a little less awkward with her around, trying to make conversation, filling the silence.

"Have you thought of names?" She'd asked, once they were a safe distance from the Justice Building and had turned out of the crowded square.

"Not really," Madge admitted.

"No family names?"

Madge shook her head.

"Well, you've still got a few months." She'd smiled fondly at Gale. "This one didn't get his name until the day he was born. Right in the middle of a storm. Didn't even wait for the midwife."

Gale's cheeks deepened in color, and Madge couldn't help but smile at the thought of a baby Gale, squawking and squalling and newly born.

She'd wanted to ask if he was born with a full head of hair, if it was a difficult birth, whether he'd been as temperamental as an infant as he was now, but hadn't.

Hazelle Hawthorne was a stranger, even if she was going to be the grandmother to her baby.

Before she'd headed home, she'd dug around in her purse, finally fishing out a small, plainly wrapped package that she pushed into Gale's hands before kissing his cheek.

"It's good to have you in the family, no matter the way it came," she told Madge, hugging her tightly.

Then she was gone, hurrying off down the road to her other children.

Madge and Gale had walked in silence after that.

He'd stuffed his hands in his pockets, kicked a few little rocks, casting Madge curious looks occasionally that she pretended not to see, all the way to the front yard of their new home.

It's been lived in, the former occupant probably die and any family they'd had were shuffled down, to one of the less desirable houses deeper in the Seam. That's how these things generally come up, but Madge tries not to think about that. She doesn't want to think of her good fortune coming at someone else's expense, even if that's simply how thing go.

The paint is peeling and the roof is patched, the little gate surrounding the yard is falling over in a few spots, but the porch looks steady and none of the windows appears broken. Considering Gale's just barely a crew chief and Madge is probably going to be fired come Monday, it's high living.

Pushing the gate open, Madge walks to the porch and up the steps, hoping the wood can hold her weight. She's approaching the mass of a baby elephant.

Gale pulls the key out and unlocks the door, letting it swing open.

Before Madge can step in though, he swoops her up and carries her across the threshold.

"Gale!" She fails in his arms, causing him to laugh.

"Stop squirming or I'm gonna drop you," he chuckles, shifting her in his arms.

"You'll drop me because I'm enormous!" She finally huffs, as he's setting her on her feet.

As she's trying to straighten the dress, Gale reaches out and brushes a loose strand from her face, freezing her in place.

"You don't weigh much more than you did last summer," he tells her, still laughing.

The second he realizes what he's said he pulls his hand back, his color darkening.

Madge feels her face burn as she looks away, too embarrassed to look at him.

She's wondered if he's thought about that night, if he remembered it in as vivid detail as she did.

Remembering her weight as he'd lifted her didn't convince her it meant something more to him, but it made her feel better. At least he hadn't forgotten her.

Her mind searches for something to say, but she's too caught up in memories she's tried to push down to think straight.

"And it's, you know it's tradition," Gale half stammers, his hand at his neck, tugging at the small hairs at the nape. "To take the bride through the door."

Madge just nods, deciding to let the moment pass.

She turns to inspect the room.

It's been painted all white, but not recently, she can see the coal dust shadows on the wall of the previous occupant's pictures. The floors are dirty. It's probably been empty for a while if the layers of dust covering the windowsills and the grime on the glass are any clue.

Still, it's nice, more than most get.

She's about to go to the kitchen, a room she'll be less than useless in, when she hears her name.

When she turns, Gale is at the little fireplace, the plain package his mother had given him in his hands.

"It's bread," he tells her, "for the toasting."

"Oh." She'd almost forgotten.

He opens the package, letting the paper drop to the floor as he crouches and lights a small fire.

It only takes a few minutes for the tiny fire to build up, and once it's hot enough, Gale spears the small piece of bread on the end of a metal rod that had been propped up beside the hearth and holds it over the flames.

Madge has never lit a fire, never cooked a meal, and she suddenly wonders if a nice house earned with nothing more than status will be her only contribution to their union. It might be built on necessity, but that doesn't mean she doesn't want to be useful in their marriage.

When it's browned, Gale blows on it for a moment before pulling it off and breaking it in half.

"It's official now, huh?" He tells her as he hands her a jagged piece, the fire's glow reflecting in his eyes.

It should make him look demonic, the devil he is for toying with her heart, but it doesn't.

His eyes seem warm, a safe light in her dark life. Home.

She shakes the thought off and takes the bread, refusing to get pulled back into Gale's charms and good looks.

He doesn't love her, he never did, and he doesn't want to be her home. She's an inconvenience he's suffering and being compensated for. That's all.

Even if that silly schoolgirl still living in her head wishes he did.

"Yeah," she answers, putting the bread to her mouth and taking a small bite.

From his spot on the ground, Gale gives her a lopsided grin and Madge feels her heartbeat quicken.

Before she can do anything stupid, drop down beside him and try to kiss him, for example, Madge stuffs the rest of the bread in her mouth and heads to the door of what must be the bedroom.

She needs to put distance between them or else she's going to make another mistake.

Her heart can't handle another mistake.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I'm just playing with Suzanne Collins' characters and her world. They're hers. Not mine. Any lines from the books are hers too.

The rest of the day is a parade of incredulous friends and coworkers, all Gale's.

He started to ask Madge when her friends were going to start showing up, but thought better of it. The answer, he decided, was probably not one he wanted to hear.

Thom came first, knocking on the door and letting out a high pitched squeal when Gale opened it.

"I thought they were shitting me!" He shouted, mouth hanging open. He'd turned to an equally confused looking Bristol. "He did get married!"

"I'm not deaf, Thom!" Bristol shouted back before looking at Gale. "They said it was some blonde that looked like the Undersee girl you idiots are always drooling over."

Gale couldn't help himself, he'd smirked. He'd married a girl all the other men had considered beyond their reach. His wife is easily the prettiest girl any of them will ever see.

Granted, she wouldn't have married him if not for an amazing lapse in judgment, but still, the circumstances would only increase his status.

His stomach had rolled, remembering the Mayor's words, how he might get elevated for the situation but Madge would be spit on for it.

The smirk had slipped off his face.

"Well, she doesn't look like Undersee," he told them, wondering just how far he should go before talking to Madge.

"She is Undersee." Madge stepped beside him, forcing a smile. "Hi Thom."

It had taken less than a breath for Thom to swoop in and hug her.

"Holy shit!" He'd pulled back, still looking thunderstruck. "Holy shit! Did he blackmail you?"

He meant it as a joke, but the color rose in Gale's cheeks. He kind of had, and he hated it.

Bristol immediately seemed to sense trouble, her eyes fixed on Madge's increasingly pink cheeks.

When Thom pulled back, Bristol smiled wanly.

"Why the hurry? We didn't even know you were dating."

There was something accusatory in her voice, and Gale didn't like it.

Madge didn't miss a beat.

"We wanted to keep it quiet," she told Bristol, her fake smile never faltering as she took Gale's hand and squeezed it. "You know how it'd be in this district. Miner dating the mayor's daughter. We'd never get a moment alone. Not good for a budding relationship."

Gale barely had time to marvel at her quick thinking when Thom made a garbled noise.

"That's why you stopped going out," he said, looking like a light had been switched on his head. "How did I not see it?"

Fairly easily, Gale thinks. Thom is clueless even at his sharpest.

He'd forgotten that his 'love life' had been dying a slow death over the past few months, since Madge. There'd still been a few dates, a few last trips to the slag heap, but the ghost of Madge's body against his had been too persistent, too perfect.

None of the girls had been able to erase it, and Gale hadn't wanted them too.

Madge had been stunned into silence at Thom's admittance, and Gale took her surprise as an opening.

"Yeah," agreed with Thom.

He gave Madge a tug, wrapping his arm around her and pressing a kiss to her temple.

Her lips were a more appealing target, but he wasn't sure she wouldn't elbow him in the side again and his ribs were still sore.

"I only kept up a few for appearances."

Madge's smile stayed frozen, Gale wished he could see what she was thinking.

Had she known his dating habits had changed since their encounter? He doubted it.

Did it make her think any better of him? He hoped so.

"Huh?" Thom muttered, scratching under his cap.

Bristol looked less convinced, but stayed silent, only asking if they could see the house when the quiet of her boyfriend trying to think got too loud.

Thom had pretty much conducted the tour himself, even taking it upon himself to give Madge decorating advice.

"I'm against antlers in the decor personally," he'd told her, pretending to eyeball the wall where Gale is pretty sure the government installers will set up the television come Monday. "It's a little tacky."

"You have those stupid goat horns over your bed," Bristol pointed out, eyes rolling.

"Those are from a jackalope and they're a family heirloom."

"Those aren't real, Thom."

He'd huffed and looked back to Madge.

"Anything you want for a housewarming gift? Maybe some very fragrant flowers to mask Stinky's pungent after work aroma?"

Gale had been ready to toss Thom out at that, but Madge's next words froze him mid grab.

"Maybe something for the baby."

Bristol's eyes had widened slightly before her expression settled into something that looked like her suspicions had just been confirmed. Gale hated that look.

She smiled, it looked anything but truly happy.

"Congratulations."

It rang false to Gale's ears.

Thom, on the other hand, looked genuinely elated.

"I'm gonna be an uncle!"

"You aren't-"

"Shut up, Gale, you know I am," he'd cut him off, pushing him away and hugging Madge again. "I thought you looked extra radiant lately."

And by radiant Thom meant her chest had looked bigger.

When the hug went on a little too long, Gale forcibly pried his so-called friend from his wife, glaring the entire time.

They'd left a few minutes after that, with Thom still blubbering about becoming an uncle.

"You're not!" Gale shouted at him one last time before slamming the door and turning to Madge. "Why'd you tell that moron? Now half the District is gonna know."

And the other half wouldn't be far behind.

Bristol was nice, and she wasn't as loud as her idiot boyfriend, but she still gossiped.

She'd tell her mom, and her mom would tell their neighbor, Mrs. Shumard, and once she told Chesney…

Less than a day. That's how long Gale gave it before the entire District knew he'd knocked up Madge Undersee and she'd roped him into marriage.

That's how the gossip hounds will spin it anyways.

Madge just shrugs, rubbing at her belly.

"If they tell everyone I won't have to."

Gale crossed his arms, sighing. "But everyone is going to twist things up."

She'd shrugged again.

"They'll do that anyways." Her lips twisted up ruefully. "I'm gonna be the selfish whore that tricked you into marriage no matter what I say. My dad is the closest thing most of these people will ever get to the Capitol. He's worse than the Peacekeepers in some people's mind because he's the government, and I'm an extension of him."

Somehow, Gale already knew that.

"The narrative is out of my hands whether I say a word in my defense or not."

It turns his stomach, but she's right.

"I'll set them straight," he told her, anger at everyone that was going to slander her boiling in his chest. "I'll tell them we were together and planning on getting married anyways, just like you told Thom."

If it came from him they'd have to at least give it thought.

A smile, so faint he almost missed it, formed softly on her lips.

"It won't do any good. They'll believe what they want no matter what."

And when the next guest came by under the guise of congratulating them, Gale had to accept she was right.

Sanderson had boomingly wished them the best, but both he and his bird-nosed wife looked eager to go and discuss the newest Hawthorne the second they set eyes on her.

Their visit was nothing more than a foraging expedition, a chance to give credibility to their wild conjectures when they started gossiping with their neighbors.

Not for the first time, Gale curses the fact that he'd somehow earned a reputation as a man to look to. People enjoy creating rumors about those they see as in charge, and with his frequent trips to the woods, his ability to keep his family fed and help others, has definitely given people the impression he's someone.

Even if he's far from it.

Being promoted certainly hadn't helped anything.

Dozens of people eventually showed up, each less convincingly happy for the pair than the last, until finally Gale decides he's done with being a gracious host.

Madge is his wife, not some exhibit for them to ogle and dissect, and he's done with their judging eyes.

"What did you expect?" She sighs, leaning against the wall and rubbing her eyes.

Gale doesn't answer, just glares around, wishing the homes were fully furnished. She needs to sit.

He'll have to go to the Hob and try to barter for some chairs, a sofa, a kitchen table, all the basics, then in a few months, if they're able to save enough, maybe he'll be able to afford a nice cradle. Their baby is going to have a bed of its own, not get stuffed in an unused crate or drawer like a lot of Seam babies.

If his dad had been able to scrape together enough for his kids, Gale could for his.

As he's planning out how many squirrels he'll have to kill for a decent shot at a nicely upholstered couch, another knock comes at the door.

The last of his patience spent, Gale grabs the handle and swings the door open, ready to spit nails at whoever is waiting.

Instead of another co-worker or acquaintance, he finds a troop of skinny dark haired boys, all struggling with what looks to be a mattress.

"Mayor Undersee sent us," the tallest boy tells him, handing Gale an envelope with Madge's name scrawled across the front.

Madge pokes her head out of bedroom, having heard the knock. She probably expects another visitor she'll have to smile for, because she's already arranged her features into a pleasant expression. When she spots the boys her careful look slips.

"They, uh...your dad sent them," Gale tells her, holding the letter out to her.

Still looking confused, Madge comes to the door and takes it, opening it carefully and reading whatever is inside.

"It's my bed," she finally says, eyes still on the paper. "He says he knows we wouldn't have time to get any furniture today and he didn't want me sleeping on the floor."

Gale wants to be mad, he can provide for his family, but he forces the feeling down.

His pride isn't more important than Madge's comfort. She's pregnant and the floor would be awful for her back.

Feeling Madge's wide blue eyes on him, watching and waiting for his thoughts on the turn of event, probably expecting him to explode and tell her the bed is going back, Gale smiles.

"That was nice of him."

Her lips press together, nose wrinkling up, trying to sense the anger she knows is there at the slight against his ability, but Gale just waves the boys in.

"Bedroom's right through there."

The boys lug the heavy mattress and box springs into the room and let them fall loudly to the floor before stacking them right and tossing several lumpy looking blankets on them.

They troop out a minute later, all casting less than casual glances at Madge as they go. Gale hears one of them making a comment worthy of Rory about Madge's chest as they reach the fence so he clears his throat noisily from the porch and shoots a nasty glare the little asshole's way when he turns to look back.

Going pale, the boy looks like he might wet himself as he stands frozen, staring at Gale.

Mouthing the word 'Don't', Gale is happy to see the brat is terrified as he scurries off, hopefully with a little more respect for Madge.

He doubts it though.

Besides, his problems are bigger than perverted little boys with dirty minds and wandering eyes.

He can't just intimidate everyone that's disrespectful to Madge. He could try, but he's only got so many hours in the day.

Going back in the house, he finds Madge in the bedroom, still staring at the bed, her hands on her stomach, massaging the sides. When she feel Gale walk in she immediately looks up.

"We don't have to keep it," she says, her voice soft.

She must think it was for show, letting the boys bring the bed in the room, though he isn't sure how she expects him to take it back.

Sighing, Gale runs his hands through his hair, putting an end to all his mom's careful work once and for all.

"I'm not going to make my pregnant wife sleep on a cold, hard floor."

Biting her lip, her eyes go back to the bed. "That's nice of you, but I know-"

"That I don't like charity," he finishes, already knowing where she's going. "He's family though now, right? And family helps each other out."

Madge nods, still not looking convinced.

"Besides, you're his daughter." Gale gives her a half smile, one that's never failed him yet with a girl, and points to her belly. "When our girl gets married, I don't want some idiot boy making her life hard just because he's got more pride than money."

Slowly, a tiny smile racks Madge's worried expression. "What makes you think it's a girl?"

Gale shrugs, takes a step towards her, leans in just a little.

"Girls make their mothers prettier." He reaches out, brushing that persistently wild strand from her face, letting his fingers trace down her cheek. "If you haven't noticed it you need a new mirror."

Her entire face flushes the most gorgeous shade of pink and she ducks away, pretending she's got something in her eye and rubbing at it.

"You don't have to sweet talk me. The papers are signed, remember?" She half mumbles, still not looking at him.

Gale scowls. "I'm not sweet talking. I'm just being honest." He steps in front of her, taking her by the shoulders and dipping a little, making her look at him. "This doesn't have to be a bad deal, Madge. We can be happy."

He already is.

She's been his dream girl since he'd sold her granddad berries with his dad, and even if it was an accident that forced them together, he's glad it was her, and not just for the perks of a nice house and a fancy bed. He'd take her without those.

She's smart and funny, impossibly sweet, gorgeous, Gale's lucked out with her. With his normal luck he'd have gotten one of the girls whose name he hadn't even bothered to learn pregnant. There'd definitely been stars aligning for him, if not for her.

"I don't want you to be miserable."

That tiny smile reforms and Gale feels his heart speed up.

"I'm not going to be miserable."

For a second she studies him, her nose still scrunched up.

"Did you really stop dating?"

So many nosy people had come through that Gale had forgotten about Thom's slip.

She apparently hadn't known about it, and that makes Gale a little hopeful his image with her has a chance to be salvaged.

Uncertain how much he should divulge, Gale just nods. He seems to make messes when he talks unnecessarily.

"Why?"

It's a trap, and he knows it. His mind starts trying to weave a good response, tell her he was planning on coming back to her the whole time, maybe that it had all always been Thom's idea, that he was making money off his body, any number of thing that might make him sound like less of a shallow bastard.

That nagging voice that sounds like his mom cautions him against it though.

Instead of a lie that makes him sound better, he decides on the truth that makes him sound like a pig.

"I didn't want to, but...they-none of them were doing it for me, you know?"

He doesn't say it's because they weren't her, that she'd ruined casual encounters for him by being so damn addictive, but he hopes she reads between the lines.

Her lips pucker again, and Gale just barely keeps himself from lurching forward and catching them with his own. She's his wife and he hasn't gotten to even kiss her yet. The injustice of it is intolerable.

"Did-did I have anything to do with it?" She asks, her voice tantalizingly breathy.

It's too much.

Gale wants to whisper back that of course it had to do with her, it had everything to do with her, but his brain has stopped functioning. All he can think about is how soft her lips look, how easily her could get her too big dress off, how close the bed is…

Words have never been his strong suit anyways.

Ignoring his mom's voice, clearly telling him he's going to get hit again, and rightly deserve it, Gale inches forward, until his forehead is almost touching hers.

She doesn't step back, and that's all the reassurance Gale needs.

In half a breath he closes the distance between them, almost knocking Madge backward as he does.

She's every bit as soft as she'd been months before, tastes like strawberries, smells like the expensive shampoo Gale won't be able to buy her.

He pushes the last thought away, refusing to let such an ugly fact ruin the moment. He wants to immerse himself in her, forget that he's dragging her into poverty and hunger and just enjoy his wedding night, let her enjoy it too.

They stumble back in the small space; Madge ends up pinned between Gale and the wall, making a soft grunt against Gale's mouth in response.

Without thinking, his hands begin inching the hem of the dress up, and when she responds by fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, Gale spins her around and they topple onto the bed.

He's just gotten the bottom half of the dress bunched up at her waist, his finger trying to make sense of the complicated latch on her bra to make a simple job of finishing undressing her, when she stills under him, her fingers still tugging at his hair.

Propping himself on his elbows, Gale tries to catch his breath as he looks at her questioningly.

Her soft fingers trace along his jaw as she studies him for a moment before sighing.

"I can't do this again," she tells him, voice low, brittle and ready to break. "I messed up once and I won't do it again. It won't just hurt me."

He's reasonably certain she isn't worried about getting pregnant again, he's almost as certain he can't get her double pregnant, and he's never heard of sex hurting the baby, so she's not being literal, but that's as far as his hormone rattled mind can get.

"This isn't about me and you and what we want." She rolls away, pushing herself up and leaving Gale hot and bothered, sprawled on the bed. "I can't let you hurt me again. I won't."

Because what's bad for her is bad for the baby, and she's a mother now.

Gale wishes becoming a dad made him half as selfless as her. All he can think about though is that loving her is good for the baby too. Making her happy is good for it.

Being a good husband is good for it.

But he can't be if she won't even let him try.

"What if I don't?"

Her lips twitch.

"I don't know if you know how not to."

She adjusts her dress and smooths out her hair before mumbling about trying to cook something from the scraps of food people had brought them.

Gale watches her vanish out the door before collapsing on the bed and groaning, wondering just how he's going to change her mind, and hoping that he can.

#######

Madge nearly drops the little stringed bag filled with a handful of what looks to be bits of cured meat.

Her nerves are frazzled and she can't focus.

She shouldn't have let him rattle her, get her to the point of almost toppling back into the same mistake that had landed them where they are now.

Part of her mind is scolding her. She let his smile and pretty eyes play games with her mind and she can't let that happen anymore. There's the baby to think of now and anything that stresses her, like Gale using her body to get himself off, would definitely stress her.

Another part of her mind, one that sounds a lot like Mrs. Oberst, whispers she deserves to be used.

That voice gets ignored as much as possible.

The sliver of her mind that normally is so sound, keeps her from messing things up and getting in trouble, however, has a very different, very appealing view. She suspects it's responsible for her spectacular lapse in judgment all those months ago.

Why shouldn't she sleep with him?

They're married now, that's what married people do.

Besides, it reminds her, sounding much too confidant, you've been dreaming of it since it happened.

Which is the absolute truth, unfortunately. Even when she was at her maddest, hated Gale for using her like that, her mind had betrayed her with those memories. It had felt good, in the moment, and she couldn't pretend otherwise. Even if the aftermath was nothing short of disaster.

There'd be no consequence now if they were together.

Except Madge feeling like she were paying her debt to him, giving him payment for taking pity on her and saving her family from humiliation and her from being taken away.

The thought makes her feel even more like property, cheap, filthy, and not nearly worth the bother.

She shakes her head and pushes the last two thoughts away.

The first is the only one she can afford to listen to at the moment.

Going to the stove, she frowns, runs her fingers across the front.

It looks nothing like the one back hom-at her parents' home. There are no buttons or knobs and instead of white enamel, it's a heavy black color.

She isn't even sure if any of the foods they'd been given needed heating, but if they did, she has no idea how she'd go about it.

"It's a wood stove," she hears Gale's voice reverberate through the room, off the walls, surrounding her. "We used all the wood for the toasting though, so we'll have to just eat cold food tonight."

Madge almost laughs and tells him he might eat cold for the rest of his life with her doing the cooking, but her voice is still raw from trying not to cry and she settles on just nodding. He'll learn soon enough that the kitchen will be mostly for looks.

She might owe him sex once that come to light. It'll be about the only thing she'll have to offer.

He crosses the kitchen in two steps, plucking the bag from her loose grip and opens it, pulling out a chipped piece of meat and offering it to her.

"What is it?" She asks, not really thinking.

Pickiness is starvation in the Seam. She's got to get over her squeamishness. Besides, meat is meat.

"I dunno, wild dog maybe."

She wishes she hadn't asked.

"I'll-there's some cheese and crackers," she tells him, backing away from the questionable meat. "I'm not much for jerky anyway."

He looks like he might say something about that, but just shakes his head and eats the chunk instead.

They eat in silence after that, only the sound of rifling around and their chewing breaking it.

Finally, Gale sighs.

"So, I'm gonna go to my mom's house and pick some blankets up," he tells her, setting the bag of meats down. "You can have the bed and I'll camp out in the living room."

Madge almost drops the cracker in her hands, her heart speeding up.

"You don't have to sleep in the living room."

Part of it is that she doesn't want him to leave her in the house alone. There still might be visitors, despite the closing evening, and she doesn't want to entertain them alone.

Part of it is she's afraid of sleeping in the bedroom alone.

The Seam is a strange new place, her new house an unknown full of sounds she's not accustomed to and shadows she hasn't learned yet. Even if he's only a few feet away, that's too far for comfort. Gale might not love her, but he'll still protect her, she's sure of that.

"I didn't figure you'd want me in the bed," he says, his gray eyes focused on her, searching for something. "Especially after…"

His eyes cut toward the wall, to the bedroom, and Madge feels her cheeks warm.

She shakes the thought and the ghosts of his hands away, her own eyes dropping to the cabinet, refusing to look at him.

"It's a big bed. It'll be fine."

He's quiet for a minute. Probably thinking of a way to shame her for having such a big bed in the first place.

"Are you sure about that?"

Madge glances up, expecting him to be scowling or make a snide remark about having a dirty miner in her bed or being afraid of the dark, but instead finds him simply waiting, his expression almost anxious.

She immediately looks away, his eyes too intense for her.

His feet barely make a noise as he steps forward, into her space, his calloused fingers reaching out and tipping her chin up.

"Madge, are you sure you want me in the bed?"

There's no hint of insincerity in his voice, no mocking, just concern, and that cracks her heart down the middle.

He may not love her, but he's worried for her, and that's almost too much.

Stepping back, she nods. "Yeah. I'm sure."

#######

They stay up for a few more hours, discussing the next day.

"So you want me to stick with the story you told Thom?" Gale asks her. "That we've been dating in secret?"

Madge nods. He doesn't understand the necessity of it, that even if not a soul in the District believes it, the lie isn't for them.

It's for the Capitol. They have to keep up the appearance that they're trying to be traditional for the people that might be watching. They have to believe the mayor's brat kid is still keeping in line and doing what's best for the District, what her father wants her to do. It has to look like they're at least trying to make people believe this was intentional.

Politics and subterfuge aren't Gale's area of expertise though, and he doesn't seem to care much for the convoluted explanation.

"They're crazy, got it."

She supposes that's a concise enough assessment of the situation.

When they go to bed Madge digs out her old nightgown from the lumpy purse she'd brought and ducks in the bathroom to put it on.

"You remember I've seen you naked already, right?" He calls to her through the door.

Madge's cheeks heat again and she has to stay hidden in the bathroom for a few more minutes before she can cool enough to come out.

He smirks at her when she finally emerges and her face flushes again.

He's stripped down to his boxers, which are thin and patched, barely sufficient for the job they've been given. Madge can clearly see the outline of his body through them.

Trying very hard not to look at him, Madge crawls onto the bed and curls on her side and faces the wall, her back to him as she pulls the blankets up around her shoulders.

The bed dips as Gale chuckles to himself and gets comfortable on the opposite side.

"Do you just like making me uncomfortable?"she asks, feeling annoyed and some other unfamiliar emotion at the same time.

She feels him roll, his eyes on her back.

"Yeah," he answers. "You're pretty when you're embarrassed."

Madge pulls the blankets tighter and closes her eyes, wishing that his thinking that didn't make her happy.

#######

Gale wakes in the gray morning light filtering in through the grimy window over the bed.

It's raining outside, he can hear the sad splatters on the roof and glass, and wonders if the patch he'd put on the weekend before over his and the boys' room is holding up.

None of his siblings had come by the day before, and he supposes he has his mom to thank for that. She'd probably kept them home, knowing they'd have enough nosy people coming by to bother them. Gale's obnoxious brothers and sister could wait to interrogate him for at least one day.

The air around the bed feel several degrees cooler than it had when they'd gone to bed, and Gale starts to pull the heavy blankets Madge's dad had sent closer, but finds his shoulder stuck.

When he looks over, he finds Madge's nuzzling closer to him. Her nose grazes his skin and he flinches. She's ice cold.

Sometime in her sleep she'd inched closer to him, trying to leech off his warmth.

Her hair is beautifully messy, some strung in her face, and Gale brushes it away.

Somewhere in his memory, he remembers his dad letting his mom sleep in on Sunday mornings, then waking her with a dozen kisses when he'd come back from hunting.

She'd squealed, laughed and told him to stop it, his stubble was scratchy and he smelled, but she always ended up kissing him back until she was breathless. At least until the kids had protested that it was 'gross'.

He wishes he hadn't done that now. His mom and dad had deserved to kiss as much as they'd wanted, and they'd gotten their chances to do so cut sickeningly short.

If he didn't think Madge might scream, he'd try kissing her awake.

Instead, he wiggles his arm under her, shifts her weight so that she's pressed flush against him, cold nose nuzzling to his chest.

Pressing a quick, dry kiss to her forehead, Gale closes his eyes.

He'll have to get up in an hour to head to the woods. He needs to find some animal out there that doesn't offend her clearly delicate tongue, she's pregnant and needs all the food she can get, and he's going to make sure she has it.

Snuggling closer, she sighs, her warm breath tingling Gale's skin.

Maybe, eventually, he'll get to wake her up with kisses when he comes home from hunting and embarrass their kids.

For now, he'll take keeping her warm before, and hope she thaws enough to give him a chance someday.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I'm just playing with Suzanne Collins' characters and her world. They're hers. Not mine. Any lines from the books are hers too.

Madge woke wrapped snugly on her first morning as a married woman.

Gale was gone already, though where to she wasn't sure. It isn't until he comes home, smelling of earth and wind and mud splattered on his boots and the bottoms of his pants that's she realizes he'd woken early to go to the woods.

Of course he had. There's a baby to think of, and Gale won't let his child starve.

"Needed to check the traps," he explained as he went to the bathroom to wash up. "You eat rabbit?"

She never has, but she nods anyway.

It's a delicacy she'll have to get used to in her new life.

For the baby, she'll do it.

"My mom'll be by and she can teach you to fry it up," he tells her as he pulls on his boots and laces them up, preparing to go back out.

Madge almost grumbles that he has no faith in her. That for all he knows she's cooked hundreds of rabbits, but she doesn't. He may barely know her, but he knows she's not a cook, and definitely not one familiar with something so exotic.

It stings that she's so transparently helpless, but it's just another hurdle she'll have to overcome.

He hurries past her and into the kitchen, quickly tossing a few things into his battered lunch pail, leaving too much behind in Madge's opinion, before turning back to her.

"Tell my mom I put the rabbits on the back porch, under the steps, okay?"

It feels less like a husband leaving his wife to go hunt and more like a parent giving their very dim child instructions, but Madge doesn't object. She is a child, much more so than Gale has ever been.

Nodding, Madge tries not to let the tears building up fall.

She doesn't want him to leave her in their strange new house just yet. He may only be with her out of necessity, but he's familiar, a strange kind of comfort, and she's afraid to be without him.

Closing her eyes, Madge forces the fear away.

This is her life now, and she can't have someone with her every minute.

Her life has always been a lonely one, there's not much difference now but the setting.

Something warm and damp presses to her cheek, and when she opens her eyes she finds Gale pulling back, his color a little darker.

"I'll see you tonight," he mumbles, hitching the blanket a little closer around her, before hurrying out the door.

She follows him, watches him disappear into the foggy morning before shutting the door and locking it tight.

Turning, she stares out at the empty room.

It's warm, Gale had started a small fire and it crackles happily on the hearth, bathing the room in a cheerful golden glow.

He doesn't want her to be cold, it's bad for the baby.

Involuntarily, her fingers touch her cheek, the tingling spot Gale had kissed.

That wasn't for the baby.

#######

Gale's mother comes by a few hours after he leaves for the woods again.

Madge instantly points her in the direction of the rabbits.

"Nice and fat," she comments, inspecting them closely. "I imagine Gale'll have a few squirrel tonight too."

The rabbit are bad enough, limp and dead eyed, Madge doesn't know if she can take seeing another innocent woodland creature lifeless on her back porch. Let alone being expected to skin and gut the poor thing.

Nodding, Madge bites her lip and hopes the disgust doesn't register on her face.

Squirrel and rabbit will keep them alive, she can't be sickened by them.

Watching Mrs. Hawthorne for a few more moments, Madge plucks up the courage to ask what she knows she has to. It's inevitable.

It's for the baby, she tells herself.

"Mrs. Hawthorne?"

"It's Hazelle, dear," Mrs. Hawthorne tells her with a gentle smile. "You're Mrs. Hawthorne too now."

The strangeness of her own words had been lost on Madge, and she feels her face flush when it registers what she's said. She'd forgotten something she'd been so focused on less than a day before.

"Yeah, I guess." She shakes her head. "I-Mrs-Hazelle, do you...could you teach me to cook?"

She needs to learn how, and there's no one better to teach her than the grandmother of her child.

If Gale is willing to go out to provide for them, she needs to learn to prepare. It's the very least she can do.

Hazelle stares at her for a moment, maybe contemplating just how awful her son's luck is to have gotten the most useless girl in the District pregnant, before smiling a little brighter.

"I'd love to."

#######

Madge's first lesson, skinning the poor little rabbits, goes about as well as she'd expected.

The noises of the skin and sinew pulling apart, the awful ripping, almost upturn her stomach.

"You shouldn't worry about cooking," Rory tells her, after noon when he, Vick, and Posy finally turn up. "Gale didn't marry you because he thought you'd make a good housewife."

That earns a very warning glare from his mother.

"I can't believe you're really pregnant," Vick tells her, looking at her stomach in awe.

"I can't believe he knocked you up. How drunk were you?"

That earns Rory a very loud slap on the back of the head.

"What? It's a legitimate question. She's way too good for him."

Rory gets sent outside after that with strict orders not to come back in until he's learned to watch his mouth.

"Can I name the baby?" Posy asks, her hands on Madge's belly, as if trying to peer inside at her growing niece or nephew.

"Posy, Madge and Gale are going to name their baby, without your input," she sternly tells her. "I told you that last night."

"But Gale didn't even know he was havin' a baby. I'm just tryin' to help him."

Flashing Madge an apologetic smile, Hazelle shakes her head at Posy.

"They'll pick out their own name."

After that they goes back to cooking, but Madge does very little learning.

"It's only a little overdone," Hazelle tells her, examining the very burnt looking bits of rabbit they'd just pulled from the wood burning stove.

Vick picks up a chunk and bites into it, makes a face, then sets it back before forcing a smile for Madge. "Yeah, it's not bad."

Madge almost bursts into tears when she manages to burn the tessera grain rolls as well.

"I'm so sorry," she apologizes, voice breaking. "I didn't pay attention to the time."

There's so little grain and she's wasted something so precious. It's inexcusable.

"It's okay," Hazelle assures her. "The kids had both of us distracted."

Which was partly true, but Madge had still been responsible. It was her dinner.

"Don't worry, Gale'll eat anything you make," Vick promises her as his mother shuffles him and Posy out the door, telling them that Gale and Madge need time alone together.

"Why? She's already knocked up," Rory points out, from his spot just outside the door.

"Rory!"

From what Madge overhears of their conversation on the porch after that, she doubts she'll see her brother-in-law again for quite some time.

It's another few hours before Gale turns up.

He's sweaty and filthy, more than just grime clinging to his clothes, lots of little cuts on his hands and face, and he looks past exhausted, but he still smiles when he sees her.

"Got some squirrel."

He holds up a ratty looking bag, stained horribly with what looks like blood, gives it a shake.

"They put up a fight?" Madge frowns, tilting her head as she reaches out and touches a bloody knuckle.

It raw, skinned and cracked, reminding Madge a little too much of Mr. Abernathy's occasional wounds after a fight. He's usually sporting a black eye too, and normally reeks of liquor.

Other than a few scrapes and cuts, Gale's face is clear, and he only smells of woods and sweat.

Wincing, Gale pulls back and wipes the blood from the back of his hand. "Something like that."

There's more to it, but he clearly isn't going to tell her, and that only worries her more.

Pushing the fear that his wounds are to do with her, Madge just nods.

"We can have it tomorrow." He carries on, glances past Madge, to the plate of burnt meat. "My mom come by?"

Nodding, Madge waves toward the kitchen. "She tried to teach me to cook."

Gale steps past her, casting an incredulous look her way as he eyes the ruined rabbit.

"Didn't take, huh?"

He seems to be joking, but it falls flat.

The tears she'd held back earlier start to trickle out and Madge swallows down a sob.

"I'll keep trying," she tells him.

She won't fail at this. It's her life now, and she has to learn to survive it. Everyone is expecting her to be awful, make Gale miserable, and she won't live down to their expectations.

A rough finger brushes her cheek, wiping away the tears. "I know you will."

Gale pulls his hand back and clears his throat, looking flustered, then takes up a blackened scrap of meat and bites into it with an audible crunch before grimacing.

"Well," he forces a smile, "I'm not gonna get poisoned from it."

#######

Madge's cooking doesn't get improve over the next few weeks.

She tries and tries, but cooking just isn't in her blood.

"You shouldn't have to cook," Mr. Abernathy tells her when he finally forgives her for getting married without telling him and comes to her new house, her mother in tow. "You're a lady."

Madge just gives him a weary look.

"I'm no lady."

Not according to the rumors anyways.

She's a whore, and a manipulative one at that. Gale only married her for reasons she doesn't dare repeat in front of Mr. Abernathy. If people are wise enough to keep their mouths shut and opinions to themselves around him, she won't out them, won't start that fight. Still, it's the worst the gossip has been in her life, and part of wants to release a fury on them.

She'd gone to work the Monday after getting married, and the girls at the office hadn't even let her get formally fired, just joyfully told her she was out.

"God, and I thought you were just getting fat," one of them says, eyeing her disdainfully. "But you actually used those big boobs of yours to trap a guy."

Madge doesn't even bother to defend herself. It would fall on deaf ears anyways.

"Couldn't your daddy have gotten you a boy from the Capitol?" Another asks. "You had to take the best looking guy from the Seam instead."

"Always knew girls from Town could keep their legs together."

"Probably did more work on your back than you've done in your chair."

"Poor Hawthorne. Probably not even his." Someone sneers. "Her daddy probably bribed him."

"Well I hope he's well compensated," one of the women loudly whispers in response, clearly hoping Madge hears her. "Worthless whore like that, been ridden by every guy around, it'd take a lot to make a nice guy like that take that."

Madge almost snaps and asks when she's supposed to have had all these filthy liaisons, who they were, why she'd bother.

She doesn't though. It'd do no good and only fuel their dislike for her.

Her boss is a little more kind.

"You left all the work on Friday undone," he points out. "I hate to lose you, but that's a terminable offense."

Tears had welled up in her eyes as she nodded.

Her job, her first and only job, something she'd worked for herself and earned, was all gone.

"And beside that, being pregnant is a distraction."

"You mean all the yammering about my being pregnant will be a distraction."

He'd just smiled sadly and given her the last weeks pay.

"You're more a lady than any of those gossipy old hens, don't doubt that, Pearl," Mr. Abernathy simply says, almost daring her to argue.

She does doubt that, more than he knows, but keeps those thought to herself.

Going into Town just to see her parents had become such a nightmare that she'd given it up. She was used to the subtle stares and cool reception, but people had always kept most of their nastiness to themselves.

Now that she'd proven herself a woman without morals, their consideration had waned.

It had taken only a few times going home in tears for her to decide that her parents would have to come to see her rather than the other way around. Whether it was hormones or plain old tiredness, she couldn't put up with the abuse anymore.

While Mr. Abernathy ignores the ugly truth of human nature, her mother focuses on Madge's strengths.

"You make the nicest sweets, love," she reminds Madge. "And you're so beautiful."

Madge only smiles weakly at that.

Prettiness and candy mean little in a place like the Seam. Her mother won't understand that.

Despite her woeful performance as a wife, Gale doesn't snap. He doesn't belittle her or turn up his nose.

He's playing the part of the ideal husband, even if she's nowhere near the perfect wife.

It's for the baby, that's what she tells herself. Gale loves their baby, and he's taking care of her for its sake.

Every morning before work he leaves to check his snares, brings home more squirrels and rabbits for Madge to practice on, sometimes roots and the occasional handful of nuts, then kisses her cheek and heads out.

To her relief, he comes home with fewer and fewer mysterious cuts, less suspiciously bloody knuckles, until finally Madge no longer has to wash blood from his uniform other than the occasional scraped knee. Eventually, all his wounds can be explained by the woods or the mines. That doesn't really ease her mind much, but it's something.

He goes after work to hunt more, then comes home to burnt meat and over boiled root soups.

"I think you're getting better," he tells her one night. "The, uh, flavor wasn't bad on that one."

It's every bit as awful as all the other meals Madge made, but she appreciates his trying to boost her spirits.

"Here, maybe she's going too fast," he tells her one night, his bones cracking as he pushes himself from the rickety chair he'd brought home from the Hob to sit around the wobbly kitchen table he'd made from a discarded bit of plywood and a stump.

Pulling Madge up, he drags her toward the stove and sets one of the heavy pans on its top.

"Watch," he orders her, not sounding so much bossy as eager, as he takes some of the meat and seasons it, lights the fire and waits for the fat in the pan to liquefy.

"You just have to keep watching it. Never turn your back on the oil."

Madge nods, wondering if such a simple rule had slipped his mother's mind because it was so common knowledge.

While she's lost in thought, wondering just how many more lessons she'll fail for lack of inborn sense, Gale grabs her around the middle and forces her between his arms, facing the stove.

"You aren't paying attention," he grumbles.

Madge tries to focus after that, but the scent of his skin, the heat from his breath over her, even the scratch of his stubble where it brushes her cheek occasionally as he shifts to better see the meat, all distract her.

When the meat is finally done, a delicate golden brown and smelling delicious, Gale lets her go and smiles.

"See? Easy."

Madge just nods, certain she's lost more knowledge than gained during Gale's lesson.

#######

Madge begins to sense when Gale's left in the mornings.

The bed seems colder, the house much bigger, and she finds herself unable to sleep without his soft snores echoing on the thin walls.

So instead of trying to sleep, she gets up and goes to the kitchen to make his lunch. It's the least she can do.

There's not much to it. Wrap up some of the cheese, a few of the in season berries he's foraged for, and tuck in some of the burnt bits of meat, then wishes she could put in more. Wishes what she did have to put in were better prepared.

Gale's already slender frame hasn't suffered from her cooking yet, but he has no reserves. If he keeps pushing his food off on her he'll waste away.

"You don't have to do this," he tells her the second day she does it. "You need your rest."

She almost tells him that he does too, that he's running himself ragged and she doesn't want him to, but settles on simply shrugging.

"I want to."

And that's the truth. He's trying to help her through this strange new world, and she wants to return the favor.

They're partners in this, and she hates being anything less than equal.

"Teach me to sew."

"I need to learn to knit."

"Let me help you with the wash."

Hazelle tries to impart on her new daughter-in-law all the knowledge she can, with varying success.

Madge masters washing easily enough, getting the blood, coal dust, and dirt from Gale's clothes, and her repair work on his uniforms slowly gets less and less sloppy, but knitting becomes almost as challenging as cooking.

In the end, Madge sneaks off to the District library to employ the best teachers she's known, books.

She takes book after book, copies down helpful notes, practices until her fingers are raw, until finally she manages to make a lumpy pair of socks.

They're small, ugly, barely recognizable for what they are, but she made them.

"Not bad," Gale chuckles. "Maybe you'll make a sweater by next winter."

"Maybe I will," she jabs back, smiling. "What color do you want?"

Gale leans in, so close Madge can see every prickle of stubble on his jaw, and grins.

"Blue, like your eyes."

Madge's cheeks burn and she quickly looks away, toying with a loose strand of yarn on the socks.

She wishes he wouldn't say things like that. It makes keeping the wall she's built between them harder to maintain.

Because even if he's grown fond of her, beyond just caring about the baby, she's still afraid. Maybe this is just a faze he'll grow out of. Maybe once the baby is born it'll all change.

She can't bring herself to let him take her down that path.

Hope is just too dangerous.

#######

She starts waking before Gale goes, always nestled to his side no matter how far away she starts the night.

Her body has a mind of its own, and even if she's convinced Gale is only taking care of her for the sake of the baby, it's hard to deny that he makes her feel loved.

Even if she doesn't believe it. Can't believe it.

It's comfortable, safe, tucked against Gale, and more and more often Madge finds herself wishing he'd stay in bed rather than go out.

It's simpler when he's sleeping, his arms wrapped around her. Madge can pretend he really does love her when he's sleeping. He can't hurt her when he's sleeping.

Then, after months it finally hits her.

As her middle expands, making her more and more clumsy, as Gale carefully untangles himself from her every single morning, tucks her gently in with the heavy blankets her father sent with the bed, kisses her forehead before he leaves each morning…he doesn't want to hurt her when he's awake either.

The hunting and the working himself raw, trying to teach her to cook when he's not too exhausted, that's not for the baby, it's for her.

That makes her failings that much worse.

When she was just an unfortunate necessity he had to tolerate because of the baby, she'd felt guilty for being such an abysmal wife. His really caring for her doubles that guilt.

He's gotten attached to her, and she's been nothing but a disappointment.

Her efforts double after that.

Cooking stops being about survival and more about proving she's worth the effort he's putting in. She's more than just an incubator.

The wall she's put up doesn't fall though.

A piece of her refuses to let it.

Gale hurt her, and her mind won't let her forget it.

Not even when she desperately wants it to.

#######

He turns up one evening, his game bag tossed over his shoulder and one hand hidden behind his back.

"What've you got?" Madge asks, trying to peek around his back.

Turning, Gale swallows, his expression tense.

"I got you something."

That went without saying, and the more he tries to hide it, the more curious she gets.

"Gale," she grins, almost edging around him, "let me see."

He catches her around the middle, quite a feat considering she's enormous, and pulls her against his chest.

His nose nuzzles into her hair and he chuckles, vibrating through his chest and into Madge's back. "Hold still and I'll show you."

When she finally stills, Gale's free hand whips around, clutching a handful of wildflowers.

"I've been watching them for a few weeks," he explains, his hold on her loosening. "Figured they wouldn't get any prettier."

Madge takes them from his hand and quietly examines them.

The names escape her, but that doesn't take away from their beauty.

"Gale…"

It isn't like him. Food is one thing, that's about survival, but flowers are...pointless.

Pretty, but without a use, a lot like he's always viewed her, actually.

There's no need for them, and it baffles her that he's wasted precious time on picking them for her.

"They're really pretty." She shakes her head. "What're they for?"

He frowns, tosses the bloody game bag to the floor by the door, and shrugs, his hand jumping to his neck and rubbing it.

"Thought you'd like them," he mutters. "I'm looking for seeds, you know, because I remember you always had a garden. The ground here is shit and no one really has any luck, but I figured if anyone could it'd be you." He shrugs. "I-the flowers seemed like a good idea."

Though he looks to be having serious doubts about that now though.

Silence stretches between them, filling up their empty living room.

Gale shifts uncomfortably; increasingly uncertain if he's done something stupid, before he finally mumbles something about warming dinner and heads to the kitchen.

Madge stays frozen on the spot, her mind desperately trying to keep her from doing something stupidly painful.

Her heart ignores it.

Taking the few steps from the living room to the kitchen, Madge finds Gale at the stove.

He's got his back to her, fussing with something as he jabs the pan.

Gale is a good man, makes some terrible decisions sometimes, but he's a good man. He wouldn't have hurt her if she hadn't let him. The mess they'd landed in wasn't all on his shoulders, and it was unfair to blame it all on him.

He's been trying to make it up to her, abandoning her after their mistake, more than he needed to.

"Gale?"

For a moment he doesn't hear her, or he's ignoring her, then he turns.

"Ye-"

Madge doesn't let him finish, just rushes at him, flowers still tight in her fist, and flings herself around him.

"Thank you." Tears spill out, soaking his shirt. "Thank you for not walking away."

He had every reason to.

She'd kept the baby a secret, hadn't worked hard enough to tell him, and now she's just an awful, useful wife…

He's got to be praying she's going to shine as a mother. Evidence so far doesn't paint a hopeful picture.

"You're trying so hard and I'm just-I'm just not-"

Gale quiets her with his lips.

"You're great," he mumbles against her mouth. "You're wonderful, you're-"

"An absolute disaster!" She sobs.

He doesn't care, at least not if his lips and hands are any indication.

"Not," he growls, hoisting her up, carrying her to the table and depositing her, causing the table to shudder under her weight.

"Gale," she breathes his name out, ignoring all the warnings her mind is giving her. "The table…"

It groans again, and Gale scoops her up.

They end up falling on the bed, tangling up in blankets, knocking flat pillows to the floor as they kiss.

Madge doesn't stop him when he peels the dress off, doesn't end it when he deftly unlatches her bra, kisses every inch of skin he can get to...

She doesn't want to.

Her hands move without thought, quickly unbuttoning his uniform, tugging his undershirt off and throwing it to the corner. She's needed his skin against hers for months now, it's been boiling up, and nothing can stop it.

She won't let it.

#######

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you," Madge whispers against his chest. "It's just, every time I did…"

"I was a jackass?" He offers.

She agrees with that assessment, but doesn't say anything. It's in the past now.

"I'm sorry I walked away." He sighs, his arms tightening around her. "Good things don't happen to me that much. Having you-being with you, that was just...not something I expected."

The cool moonlight filters in through the window, casting the bare walls in an eerie silver glow, and when Madge looks up at him, Gale's eyes are dark. The moonlight absorbed in them, not reflected.

"It's okay," she assures him, pressing her ear to his chest, his eyes too intense for her.

His heartbeat is steady, strong, and Madge wants nothing but to listen to it every night for the rest of her life.

"It's not okay," he growls. "It was cowardly. If my dad were alive...he'd never let me treat anyone like that."

His fingers twirl her hair, and Madge closes her eyes.

"You've made up for it," she tells him. "I haven't though."

He chuckles, a warm, deep thing that soothes her through.

"You have."

"How?" She props herself up and squints at him. "You've been nothing but wonderful and I haven't even managed to not burn a roll. The most useful thing I've done is make a really terrible pair of socks."

"Madge," he says her name softly, but sternly, his eyes locked with hers. "You're trying. You could've whined to your dad and gotten him to get us a nicer place or left every night and eaten with them. Hell, you could've just left and what could I have done? Your dad would find a way to help you and I'd be married to an empty house."

The options had never crossed her mind, and she isn't sure if that makes her very stupid or very loyal.

"You could've just gotten rid of it too, but you didn't. You were working for this before I even knew what happened. While I was busy being an asshole."

"I was hiding-"

"Becau-"

"And I haven't worked hard enough since we got together."

Tears threaten to break through, but Madge blinks them back.

"I'm just a-"

"-a little too hard on yourself." He wipes her cheek, smearing tears across it. "Madge, you were willing to get shipped off for this baby. You've taken everyone's crap for this marriage. Just trying is more than enough."

He's letting her off easy, and he has to know it, but Madge wants it so badly to be the truth that she just lurches forward and kisses him, pretends it's real.

"Goddamn," Gale growls. "If I'd known flowers worked so well I'd've tried them months ago."

#######

Gale doesn't go out before work anymore, and he spends less time in the woods after.

As much free time as he can gather is spent with Madge.

"That kid is coming any day now. I'm not missing it," tells her.

He's practically giddy, bringing home receiving blankets and ointments, a few tiny clothes that would work for either a boy or a girl.

For several days in a row, he toils in the backyard, occasionally with Rory and Vick helping, building a small wooden baby bed.

It goes in their room, wedged between the wall and Gale's side of the bed.

"We should put it at the end so I can get to him at night too."

Gale shakes his head, grinning.

"You're gonna have her all day. Nights are mine."

She argues that he'll be exhausted, that it's sweet but she's capable of taking care of the baby while he recovers from work each night. Gale doesn't care though.

"I want to take care of her."

Madge sighs. "Or him."

Taking a bite of meat, a cut his mother had cooked, Gale just grins. "Naw, that little peanut is a girl."

Ignoring him, Madge just rolls her eyes. He's impossible.

Each day Gale seems to anticipate the birth more than Madge.

"Because it's not coming out of you," she grumbles.

Vick had explained to her, in painful graphic detail, exactly what she was in for with delivering a baby, and she can't say she's as excited as Gale for it. It's downright terrifying.

She isn't Hazelle, as the midwife has told her several times.

"That woman has hips just made for birthing." She'd glanced at Madge and sighed. "You...well, we'll get by."

That had done nothing to ease her mind.

Months ago it hadn't seemed so daunting a task, but as it gets closer, she's increasingly relieved she has Gale.

He's been to a birth, even if he'd only been a teenager at the time. Having him near will relieve the stress a little.

At least that's what she told herself up until the first contraction started. Then it became apparent nothing made it easier.

It's stormy out, a warm summer rain followed by thundering clouds and lightening in the afternoon.

Gale is at work when the first one hits.

It isn't quite what she expected, more an intense cramp than anything, but her expression is enough that both Rory and Vick go running for their mother.

While they're gone her water breaks. She's glad her brothers-in-law aren't around for that.

Gale had enlisted them weeks before, had them coming by after school every day to keep an eye on her, make sure she didn't over exert herself. They took their duty very seriously.

"I sent them for the midwife," Hazelle tells her. "They can get your mother after that, if you like."

Madge shakes her head. "No."

Definitely not. Her mother had only barely survived Madge's birth. She's not likely to be much help.

Gale actually manages to beat the midwife to the house.

"That dumbass," Gale growls. "What's taking her so long?"

"She'll be here Gale," his mother tries to calm him as he holds Madge's hand. "The weather is bad."

That's little consolation to Gale. When the poor woman finally does arrive, half drowned by the look of it, he shoots her the filthiest look he can muster.

"About damn time," he mutters darkly.

"You're moving along nicely," she tells them, cheerfully, once she's dried out a bit. "You should get up and walk a bit. It'll move things quicker."

So Madge's walks and walks, then walks more, until finally she can't.

Each contraction seems to last hours, not minutes, and she barely has time to catch her breath when the next hits.

"You're doing great," Gale tells her, kissing her sweat soaked hair. "Almost there."

There isn't even time to snap at him that she isn't even close, and she damn well isn't doing 'great', when another contraction rips through her.

She knows she's screaming, she can feel it vibrating through her body, but she doesn't hear it. All she hears is the fragile first cry of a new life.

It warbles in the air around her, and Madge strains to see the baby cradled in the midwife's arms.

"You have a boy," she tells them.

He's got a mess of dark hair, and he's tinier than Madge had expected, but he's perfect. The pain seems worth it when she sees him. It barely registers with her as she watches her son get carefully swaddled up.

Before the midwife can hand the baby to Gale though, let him and Madge enjoy their first moment as a family, another cramp hits.

"It's just the afterbirth," the midwife tells them, handing the baby to Gale.

Gale's eyebrows knit together and his mouth forms a thin line as Madge cries out. "I don't remember it being quite so rough."

The midwife waves him off, mumbling something about Gale not having delivered half the babies she has, though Madge sees a flicker of worry in her eyes as the next cramp hits.

"This isn't an afterbirth," Gale snarls, when Madge can't even catch her breath, focus enough to see the baby in his arms.

"No," the midwife agrees. "Not afterbirth."

It's another half an hour of Gale propping Madge up with one arm, cradling their newborn son in his other, telling her to push again, before she fully understands what they mean.

"Your daughter."

The woman, face dripping with sweat, holds the crying baby up and passes her to Gale.

Exhaustion begins to take over, and the room feels foggy, but she understands.

Two. Two babies.

Gale is standing, his face caught somewhere between overwhelmed and overjoyed.

In each arm he's cradling a bundle.

For a moment he seems too shocked to speak. He's not just the father to one new baby. He's got two.

"Twins," he half whispers, sounding equal part amazed and terrified. "How the hell?"

"Runs in my family," Madge explains softly, barely able to keep her eyes open. "Guess I should've warned you."

Even if she'd never dreamed she was carrying twins.

"Doesn't matter," Gale says, shaking his head, grinning down at the pair. "They're perfect."

She's pretty sure they could both be sporting tentacles and he'd still say that. There's too much wonder clouding his eyes as he stares at his children. Madge doesn't blame him.

"I want to see them," she barely whispers, her voice hoarse. "I wanna see my babies."

She's so tired, but she wants to see them.

Carefully, Gale settles back into the bed, balancing the babies in his arms as he scoots closer to Madge.

Despite her arms feeling boneless, not having the strength to even lift her head, Madge reaches for them, runs her fingers over their tiny noses and miniscule lips.

"They look like you," she sighs, smiling down at the sleeping pair.

They both have dark hair, Gale's grumpy expression, and she'd bet once the daylight hit them, they'll be as olive as him too.

"I think they take after you," he counters, kissing the girl's nose, causing her to grimace and wiggle deeper in her blankets. "Gorgeous, the both of them."

Madge doesn't have the energy to roll her eyes at him.

They are kind of perfect though, she thinks, before she finally passes out.

#######

Madge is weak for weeks after.

"The midwife said she lost a lot of blood," Gale explains to her father when he and her mother come the next day. "She'll be okay though."

It had rattled him more than it had her.

She'd been out for several hours, apparently, and Gale hadn't been kind to the midwife as she'd explained the situation to him.

"All she told me is you lost a lot of blood," he explained when Madge finally woke. "You looked dead."

Madge thought he looked a little pale himself, as he shoveled greens at her, encouraging her to eat. Apparently, Vick had told him they encouraged blood production.

Her father just nods, cradling his grandson and smiling.

"Matilda had a rough delivery too."

Nodding vaguely, her mother's hazy eyes clear some when they settle on the baby in Madge's lap.

"You made such darling babies, love."

They bring several little outfits, tiny hats and socks, and Madge half expects Gale to get angry. He doesn't though.

"If they want to spoil them, let them."

His pride takes a backseat to his desire for his children to have the best.

The ill will people had toward Madge seems to wane, or maybe their curiosity just gets the better of them. Several of Gale's coworkers come by, bringing used baby clothes and blankets for them, all expressing their most heartfelt congratulations.

Madge actually believes a few of them.

The only time he nearly refuses a gift is when Mr. Abernathy turns up, carrying a satchel stuffed with clothes and soft toys.

"Thank god," Mr. Abernathy grumbles. "They take after you, Pearl."

"You do see all their black hair, right?" She asks, not even shocked he's pretending the babies only inherited her genes.

"Got it from Danny boy."

He's impossible.

Gale's family is there every day, helping out while Gale is at work.

"Lochia slows gradually," Vick tells her, reading straight from a medical book he'd borrowed from the District library. "That's the bleeding from your vag-"

"Vick!"

Lessons on the progress of the postpartum body end after that, much to Madge's relief.

Posy is less concerned with her sister-in-law's ghostly pale appearance and listlessness than she is with changing her newest playmates clothes.

"I'm going to make Briar a big bow," she tells Madge.

"What about Sage?"

Posy huffs. "Boys don't wear bows, Madge."

Neither, it seemed, did Briar. She swatted at the awful, enormous bow until it fell off, much to Posy's annoyance.

Much as she loves them all, and appreciates the company and help, she barely has the strength to feed the babies, Madge like the evenings best. When it's just Gale and the babies.

He's better at swaddling them than she is, though he's an excellent teacher.

"They like it nice and snug," he explains. "I mean, they've been all nice and warm in you for months. It's familiar."

Just as he'd said, he gets up in the night and soothes them, using a rocking chair he'd bartered for at the Hob the Sunday after the birth to lull them when they get fussy.

"When you get older," Madge hears him whispering to Sage one night as he's putting him down, "I'm taking you out to the woods and teaching you to set snares. Sound good?"

Sage only yawns in response, but Briar makes a much more promising noise from the cradle.

"Yeah, you too Bri." He scoops her up in his other arm and continues rocking them. "You're too tuff to get left behind."

It scares Madge, to imagine her babies out in the woods, which seem so foreign and dangerous, but her desire for them to be strong, survivors like Gale, pushes the fear away. They need to have the skills she so obviously lacks. She never wants them to feel weak, like they need protected. Like she has for so long.

The thought of Sage growing up and going into the mines terrifies her too, and she wonders how Hazelle will survive it when all three of her boys are down in those pits.

All those thoughts get shoved away. There's too much life to be lived between then and now, and she won't let the dark ahead steal the light of her todays.

"Thank you," Gale whispers, pressing a kiss to her hair as they settle in one night.

Madge frowns. "For what?"

He shifts, pulls her closer. "For marrying me."

"Gale…"

"No," he shakes his head. "I know your dad pretty much made you, and I know you had all the reasons in the world not to, but…I'm glad you did. I hope you're glad you married me too."

Shifting in the bed, Madge presses a kiss to his lips, letting it linger for a moment before falling back.

It wasn't exactly a choice she'd have made if her father hadn't pushed her to it, made her feel guilty, used her inclination to keep others safe against her, but it's one she doesn't regret.

Despite how it came about, it's turned out for the best.

"I'm happy."

He stares at her for a moment, processing what she's said, then slowly, a smile creeps on his face.

Dipping in, he begins kissing her, down her throat and nosing the neck of her nightgown out of the way before making a frustrated noise, apparently realizing her body is in no way recovered enough for the activity his is so eager for.

"I'm happy too," he growls, his voice vibrating through his chest and through her body.

"I'd hope so," Madge waves toward the cradle, hoping to ease the disappointment a little. "I did give you twice the children of a normal woman."

"Hey, I contributed you know?"

Madge snorts. "Well, don't be so ambitious next time."

One baby would be a breeze after this.

Gale's eyebrows pull together in a scowl. "Next time? There's no 'next time' Madge. Two is plenty, especially with how hard the delivery was on you."

"Gale…"

"No," he shakes his head, pulling her closer. "You didn't see how much blood was there. I've never seen that much before."

While that's disconcerting, he's slaughtered a deer before, Madge simply shrugs.

"You wouldn't wake up. I thought you were gonna die Madge."

His heartbeat quickens, and when Madge looks up, she sees his skin has taken on a sickly pallor.

"I just got you, and I thought I was gonna lose you." He shakes his head. "We got two perfect kids. Let's not push our luck."

Any doubt that might've lingered about his love, about it being conditional, attached to what she could provide, vanishes. Gale, who faces death in the mines every day, braves the woods at the risk of being executed, was scared of losing her.

He loves her.

"Gale," she whispers, inching up until her nose is inches from his, their breath mingling. "I love you."

For a minute he doesn't say anything, just stares at her in disbelief, then smiles.

"I love you too." He brushes a stand of wild hair from her face. "I loved you from the start, even if I was shitty about it."

Pressing her forehead to his, Madge closes her eyes and presses a kiss to his rough lips.

"Me too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN, pt 2: Okay, yeah, I went all cliche and gave them twins. Sorry. I avoid it so often with my other stories and I just wanted to do it once. They didn't get named Glen and Savanna either, mostly because I feel like the world they're being born into is very different than Glen and Savanna's. Plus, being twins, I wanted to give them separate identities. Ah well. And yes, in every incarnation of Vick, he's obsessed with female anatomy and reproduction. It's just how it is. Hope y'all enjoyed it anyways.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I'm just playing with Suzanne Collins' characters and her world. They're hers. Not mine. Any lines from the books are hers too.
> 
> AN: Last chapter for now. Maybe, eventually, I'll add a chapter (or two) with older Sage and Briar, but for now I think this universe is settled. I need to focus on my other story, which I've been neglecting because of writer's block/real life, which is showing no signs of improving. Basically I'm on hiatus, but I still wanted to try to move one last story to this site. Thanks to those who commented, my motivation is in short supply and you helped give me the push to continue posting here.

Gale makes sure Madge is snugly wrapped up before he leaves to hunt.

The house might be nicer than his family's, but it's still drafty. The windows bleed in the cold air and wind seeps in through the cracks under the doors, and the last thing he wants is her to get sick.

Sick pregnant women don't last long in the Seam he's found.

The woods give him a nice wedding gift, all his snares are full. Fat little rabbits in every one.

Not that it matters to Madge, she looks terrified of them when he comes home to drop them off.

"My mom'll be by and she can teach you to fry it up," he tells her, full well knowing she's never cooked a day in her life.

That's not her fault, it's just how it is. She'll have to learn though, and she knows it.

When he starts to go, she looks so small and alone, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders like a little kid that Gale hates to leave her. She needs him.

Food doesn't provide itself though, and he's got and extra mouth to feed now. He can't afford to lose a day of hunting, even if the alternative is spending time with her.

He isn't sure why he does it, he'd decided the night before to let things move slow, let her initiate contact, but he can't stop himself.

While her eyes are closed, he leans in and lightly kisses her cheek.

Her eyes pop open before he can even back off, and he half expects her to slap him.

No slap comes though, and Gale feels heat rise on his face as he starts to go.

"I'll see you tonight," he mumbles, reaching out and securing the blanket on her shoulders.

He heads back out after that, hoping his good luck will carry on and his snares will catch a few more and he'll get at least a couple of squirrels to barter with at the Hob.

The hours in the woods are spent imagining a couch, a chair, a kitchen table, maybe some tools for a garden. Madge had always grown vegetables, and he doesn't doubt her green thumb will carry over, even in the shitty Seam soil.

All those thoughts vanish from his mind when he walks into the Hob.

At first it's more the same, shouts of hello and a few congratulations, then someone sling their arm around him and starts to laugh.

"Shoulda known if one of us had a chance to nail a girl from town it'd be you," the man, Gale vaguely recognizes him from Greasy Sae's, slurs.

Gale shrugs him off with a 'yeah, sure' and tries to make his way to the man that normally sells tools.

Madge had warned him it won't do any good to snap at anyone, but it kills him not to.

"Bet it's nice, having some meat to hold on to," another person says, making a filthy gesture, causing Gale to grind his teeth.

"Don't know if I'd remembered to pull out either if I got those panties off."

"Bet she's a screamer. Does she scream your name, Hawthorne?"

Any semblance of patience and goodwill Gale had are gone in the blink of an eye.

The hit is so hard, right across the man's jaw with a sickening crack, that he falls back, taking a display of paperback books with him.

Debris flies everywhere. Gale gets cut across the cheek by a soaring screw and one of the books hits his ear, leaves a thin slice on his jaw, adding to the collection of scrapes and cuts he'd gotten in the woods.

Stepping over the scattered books, the upturned metal turnstile, Gale grabs the man by the collar of his shirt and pulls him up, their faces inches from each other.

"That is my wife," he growls, happy to see the man's eyes contract in fear. "What happens between us in none of your damn business. It gets back to me that you're talking about her again and I'm gutting you."

He shoves the man down after that, wipes the blood from his split knuckles on the back of his pants and stomps off. Tools could wait.

It isn't any better when he goes to work.

Some still congratulate him, but it's mostly dissolved to lewd comments, and it takes every ounce of self-control Gale has not to take his pick to their heads.

"Just ignore them," Thom mutters. "They're just jealous."

And creeps.

Worse than the men are the women.

Even once she's lost her job, they don't let up.

They aren't as loud, don't say it to his face, but Gale hears them just the same.

"Probably not even his."

"Nice guy, too bad he got saddled with that tart."

"Hope he's getting compensated well."

Gale just grinds his teeth. Madge is either a treasure he's won or a tramp he's stuck with, and he isn't sure which is worse.

His temper doesn't hold out well under the gossip.

He punches a few of the men, gets in their faces and warns them off, but it does about as much good as his explosion at the Hob.

"They'll move on," his mom tells him. "They'll find something else to gossip about. Just give it time and watch your head."

If they'd get a new topic sooner rather than later, Gale would appreciate it.

It isn't until he pins one of the men in his crew to the wall with his pick, threatening to strangle him in the mine and damn the consequences, that the dirty comments and nasty insinuations start to die out. Or at least get quieter.

The women are more a problem. There's no recourse against them. They keep whispering about her, spreading lies, and there's nothing Gale can do to shut their hateful mouths up.

He wishes the people putting her down could see how hard she's working. Not exactly succeeding, but trying.

Every meat he's brought home she's burnt to a crisp, despite his mom's attempts to teach her.

"At least she pretty," Rory tells him, when Gale comes by to drop off a rabbit for them. "Even if her cooking is shit."

"It's not shit," Gale defends her.

It's not good, but it's improved. He can almost tell the meats apart some days.

"Gale, I like Madge, but she's no cook," Vick tells him.

"In her defense, she probably can't see the stove," Rory adds. "Between her boobs and that stomach, she can't see much at that level."

Grumbling, Gale goes home and tries to teach her himself. Maybe his pervy brothers made learning too hard.

"Watch," he tells her, pulling her from the rickety chair at the hodgepodge table and standing her in front of the stove. "You just have to keep watching it. Never turn your back on the oil."

She nods, but her eyes are foggy, clearly not listening, so Gale grabs her and traps her between his arms, forcing her to face the stove.

"You aren't paying attention."

His own attention wanes a little after that.

She smells clean, not her expensive shampoo and soap, but still fresh, flowery and simple. Her skin is soft, delicate as a peach, and he half wonders if he'd bruised her all those months ago. Something as fragile as Madge shouldn't be in his possession, but she is, and he won't ruin her again.

What he finds most distracting is the blush that blossoms on her cheeks, vanishing down the front of her dress. It's too damn much.

It almost sends his lesson to the trash.

He only saves it at the last minute, when his cheek brushes hers, reminding him of his morning kisses goodbye. It's the only contact he's allowed himself, and it's sustained him, but having her as close as she is, smelling her skin, feeling her against him, it's more than he can handle.

It's only good luck that gets his mind back on the meat, taking it off the heat before it over cooks.

"See?" He says, a little brighter than he aims for, smiles a little too widely. "Easy."

Madge just nods, and part of him hopes it's because she's as rattled by the closeness as he is.

#######

"You don't have to do this," he tells her when she starts packing his lunches in the morning.

She does it so carefully, wrapping each food, making sure they're secure in the battered pail, that it gives Gale hope each day he opens it.

If she didn't care she wouldn't wake up to pack it, wouldn't put so much effort into it.

When she says she does it because she wants to, that hope multiplies.

Blue shadows form under her eyes, and despite her middle growing at an alarming rate while her cheeks hollow, much to Gale's frustration, she smiles when she sees him. She's happy when he comes home.

"She's warming up to me," he tells his mom one night as the winter is finally thawing, leaving only mud and damp, dead grass in its wake.

His mom just smiles.

"Of course she is," she agrees, taking his face in her hands and kissing cheek. "You've been acting like the gentleman I know you are. It's very attractive."

While doesn't think he's been acting particularly 'gentlemanly' he's been putting in a lot of effort to repair his image, and he's just relieved it's working.

"I'm glad she's got a pioneer spirit," she adds before grimacing. "Even if the skill isn't quite caught up to her."

He knows what she means.

Madge has been almost desperately trying to learn new skills.

Washing has been her biggest success. Every blood stain, all blamed on the mines cramped environment and manly clumsiness, have been scrubbed out meticulously. Her soft hands have dried and cracked so badly from it that Gale brought her home a salve to repair them.

"You should use this yourself," she tells him, trying to pass the ointment to him.

Gale just shakes his head. He wishes he could tell her he never wants her hands to get like his mom's, worn from a life of too much hard labor. If he had his way, her hands would stay impossibly soft as they are now.

That's not likely to happen, but he'll be damned if he won't try.

Sewing and patching were almost as quickly picked up. Gale would almost not even know she'd repaired his clothes if he hadn't done the damage himself.

"You could've been a seamstress," he jokes, inspecting a sleeve he'd torn on the fence.

It's perfect, a beautiful, tight seam at his elbow. She'd even gotten the stubborn blood from his injury out.

Her smile had dimmed.

"No one would've come to me."

He hadn't wanted to agree, but she was right. No one would take their clothes and pay for the repair from the daughter of a man with so much means. She's lucky she'd ever had a job at all.

They'd dropped that thought quickly, discussing the fact that the strawberries would be in season soon instead.

Knitting on the other hand, presented a larger problem.

He'd come home multiple evenings to find her raw fingers working furiously on some unknown pattern. She'd even gone to the library and brought a book home to study with.

It almost made Gale laugh. She was treating basic skills like a frustrating class at school.

The humor seeped out when he remembered it was about more than just making socks and scarves to Madge. It was about earning a place, proving she could survive.

Still when she proudly presents him with a pair of lumpy socks, not even big enough for one of Posy's dolls, he can't help but chuckle.

"Not bad. Maybe you'll make a sweater by next winter."

For half a breath he worries he shouldn't have teased her. She'd worked herself to death over those pitiful socks and she'd been so excited. He didn't want to squash her enthusiasm.

Her smile just brightens and her pale eyebrows rise in challenge. "Maybe I will. What color do you want?"

Gale knows better than to tease her, knows embarrassing her hasn't gotten him anywhere, but he can't resist her blushing. He isn't strong enough to not want it.

"Blue, like your eyes."

Just as he'd hoped, pink patches blossom on her cheeks, creep down her neck and across her chest, vanishing down the front of her dress.

Desperate as he is to ask her just how far it goes, if he can see, he bites his tongue. He'd gotten her flustered and to see that blush, that was more than he deserved for one night.

Instead of embarrassing her more, Gale just leans against the wall, arms crossed and a smirk he can't get rid of hanging on his lips, and watches her fuss absently with a bit of loose yarn on the socks before hurrying off to work on dinner.

When he comes home a few days later, he finds she's gone to the library again. Stuffed hastily under a basket of freshly folded laundry, there's a new book of knitting patterns and halfway through she's dog-eared a sweater.

Gale doesn't mention it, not even when he spots richly blue yarn tucked in a corner of the bedroom, half a length of clearly reworked knitting with the needles stabbed through it attached.

She's trying for him, and he doesn't want to ruin it.

#######

Gale sees the wildflowers coming up after the last of the snow melts.

They're skinny, underwhelming things, but they've got color, pretty shapes. He thinks they're a little useless, not edible, not medicinal, not anything but frivolously pretty, but Madge will like them. He hopes anyways.

For almost a week he watches them, the blossoms unfurling more and more, the colors becoming more vivid, until he doesn't think they'll get any fuller.

Plucking them up, he carefully wraps them in a rag and places them in his bag before heading back to the fence. He had trading to do.

"Any seeds?" He asks at each table in the Hob.

"Still no," one of the men, ancient, no teeth and leathery skin, answers. "Whaddya want seeds for? Nothing grows here."

Gale only shrugs, flipping through the old almanacs on the man's table.

"My wife's got a green thumb."

He feels the man's eyes squinted on him, hears his toothless mouth smack as he thinks, then he makes a garbled noise of recognition.

"You're the one boned the mayor's brat, aren't you?"

Making a low noise, Gale lifts his eyes from the outdated books and glares at the man.

"My wife isn't a brat," he growls. "You'd do good to remember that."

Backing up, the man gives him a gummy, apologetic smile.

"Didn't mean any disrespect. Just didn't realize you were the lucky bastard…" He falters when he sees the increasingly dark look on Gale's face. Mouth gaping for a moment, he recovers, his voice rising a little. "I get any seeds you'll be the first to know, sound good?"

Grunting an acknowledgment, Gale slings his bag over his shoulder and heads home. The Hob isn't relaxing today.

By the time he gets home he's almost forgotten the flowers tucked in his bag, it isn't until he spots a few fragile buds on one of the few trees that survive in the coal dust rich soil of the Seam that he remembers them.

They're a little bent when he takes them out, the leaves and buds a bit wilted, and he sighs in frustration.

His one bright spot seems pathetic now.

It's a waste to toss them though. They might be useless flowers, but he hates killing them for nothing, so he hides them behind his back and goes in.

"What've you got?" Madge asks, almost the minute he steps in the door.

His insides roll. He should've thrown the flowers out.

"I got you something," he tells her, his voice sounding strangle thick.

"Gale, let me see."

She tries to peek around him, she's off balance though, so he catches her around the middle and holds her tight.

On instinct, Gale's nose nuzzles in her hair. Despite the fact that she hasn't had her fancy shampoo in ages, it still smells wonderful, and he finally decides it was never that overpriced shit to begin with. She just smells nice naturally.

"Hold still and I'll show you," he chuckles as she squirms against him.

Pulling the flowers from behind him, he thrusts them in front of her

"I've been watching them for a few weeks," he explains awkwardly. "Figured they wouldn't get any prettier."

He lets her go, immediately missing the warmth of her body against his but too distracted by her examination of the wilting flowers to give it much mind.

"Gale…" She half whispers his name, her nose scrunched in confusion. "They're really pretty. What're they for?"

They're just because they're pretty, and she's pretty, and she deserves pretty things, even if he's got no means to give her any. She brightens the gray of the Seam for him and he wants her to have something to brighten her day.

None of that comes out though, as he tosses his game bag to the ground and stares at the ground, his hand jumping to his neck to rub out the mounting anxiety that the flowers were a stupid gift.

"Thought you'd like them," he mutters, wishing he'd left the damned things in the ground. They're ruined and she deserves better and she has to know that. His mouth can't let the explanation end at that though, just keeps running uselessly. "I'm looking for seeds, you know, because I remember you always had a garden. The ground here is shit and no one really has any luck, but I figured if anyone could it'd be you. I-the flowers seemed like a good idea."

Though clearly he should've gone with his first instinct to trash the damn things. They're a stupid gesture.

When the silence gets to be too much, Gale mumbles that he's going to warm up dinner and quickly ducks into the kitchen to mull over just how stupid he is.

A few minutes pass as he picks at the food, not really paying it much attention, when he hears his name.

For a second he wants to ignite her, let the awkwardness pass without comment, but that method is what got him to this point in the first place.

Preparing for the worst, he turns.

"Ye-"

Madge is on him before the acknowledgment is even formed.

"Thank you," she whimpers, tears soaking his shirt. "Thank you for not walking away."

He almost laughs. How could he walk away from her? From their baby? It's laughable that she'd think so.

His heart sinks. He had walked away, given her the worst version of himself to believe in. All her doubts are pretty solidly founded.

"You're trying so hard and I'm just," she cries harder. "I'm just not-"

Whatever she's about to say is going to be ridiculous and appalling, and Gale can't stand to hear it. So he quiets her the best way he knows how.

Madge doesn't push him away, if anything, she holds him closer, one hand fisted at the collar of his shirt and the other wrapped around his neck as she kisses back with every ounce of pent up frustration she has in her.

"You're great, you're wonderful, you're-"

Perfect.

He doesn't get it out though.

"An absolute disaster!"

She's absolutely ridiculous.

"Not," is all he can growl in response.

Somehow they end up in the bedroom, tearing clothes off, throwing them and kissing.

Gale isn't sure how they get there, he wasn't much paying attention, and he doesn't care.

His wife is finally giving him a chance, and he isn't stupid enough to miss a minute of it on details like how he got in the bed or where his pants got tossed.

He should've tried flowers earlier.

#######

Gale spends the next few weeks in a delirious kind of happiness.

He recruits Rory and Vick to help build a crib out of the best wood he can trade for, though they're both more hindrance than help.

"Why d'you want it to fit between the bed and the wall?" Rory asks, after remeasuring the space for accuracy.

"So I can get to her at night," Gale answers, wishing he'd sent his brothers home after they'd finished carrying the wood.

"Why? You do realize you don't have the right equipment to feed her, don't you?"

Gale doesn't dignify him with a response.

It doesn't matter if he can't feed their baby, he's going to get up in the middle of the night when it needs him. His child will know its daddy's voice means safety, even if it equals sleepless nights and his brothers' teasing.

"I want to take care of her."

"Or him," Madge reminds him, for what feels like the millionth time.

Gale just grins. "Naw, that little peanut is a girl."

He's sure of it.

Maybe it's a lifetime of old wives tales, but he just knows it.

"It's the way you're carrying," he tries to explains.

Madge just rolls her eyes. "You're mother told me I was carrying like it's a boy."

Much as he hates to disagree with his mom, she's absolutely wrong.

"The midwife said it looks like a boy too."

That all but verifies Gale's suspicion. The midwife is a fraud. The only reason he's even still letting her look at Madge is because his mom swears by her.

"She told Madge she doesn't have the right hips for childbearing," Gale grumbles. "I shoulda told her to go to hell."

"You'll do no such thing," his mom warns him. "You want the best for Madge and she's the best."

She waits a minute, looking apologetic.

"And, honestly, Madge's hips are a little narrow."

Huffing, Gale just ignores her and encourages Madge to do the same.

"What if she's right though?" Madge worries, after one of Vick's less than helpful visits with his graphic medical books and frightening understanding of the birthing process. "What if I can't deliver?"

"Your hips are perfect," he assures her, dipping in and kissing her, almost getting carried away until she stops him.

"Gale, we have a lot to do," she tries to deter him, albeit a little half heartedly, trying to go back to her knitting. "We don't have time for that.

He just chuckles. There's always time for that.

"You want that kid outta you don't you?" He mumbles, kissing her neck, hoping her resolve wanes a little more. "I've heard it's a good way to speed things up."

"I'll bet you have," Madge laughs, letting her knitting fall as she shifts on the bed and pulls Gale onto her, kissing him breathless.

Either she bought his lie about speeding things up and is desperate, or the other rumor he'd heard about pregnancy is more true than he'd thought.

He assumes the second, because she only gets more anxious as the due date approaches, even as his excitement increases.

"Because it's not coming out of you," she complains, apparently certain he isn't concerned about what both his mom and that useless midwife have said.

That isn't true though. He is worried, but letting Madge see that wouldn't do any good. She needs as much confidence as she can heading in.

Even if it is all bravado.

#######

Each day as Gale heads to work he half expects to come home to a baby crying, despite his mom's assurances that Madge won't deliver that fast.

"First babies are the hardest," she reminds him. "You took ages it felt like."

That's not much comfort, but he takes it.

"Any day now," Thom announces, entirely unnecessarily, each day he sees Gale at work. "Any day now I'm an uncle."

"You are no-"

"I am. You know it."

Thom aside, work does get better. Most of the men seem genuinely happy for him as the day gets closer, offering him clothes and advice he doesn't really listen to. The fact that they aren't making nasty comments about his bedroom life or trying to verify their wives' horrible suspicions about Madge makes it worth it.

Finally, after a week on pins and needles, expecting Madge's water to break in the middle of the night, it happens.

It's stormy out, a gray, rainy morning and a rumbling afternoon. Gale hates thunderstorms when he's at work.

The ground shudders around him and he pictures his dad, trapped in the mines, right as they collapsed in.

That could be him. Dead before his firstborn has even taken its first breath.

He shakes the thought off. He might yet die in the mines, but not today. Today has better things for him.

Gale is barely off the elevator when he hears his name coming in frantic shouts from the main gates.

Pushing through the listless, bone tired men, it takes several minutes before he sees Vick racing toward him, gravel flying up in his wake.

"Something's got his pant on fire, doesn't it?" Thom mumbles, frowning as Vick tears toward the wash barn.

"Gale!"

Vick doesn't even see Gale, and nearly runs past him, only stopping because Thom manages to grab him around the middle.

"No I have to get to Gale," Vick sputters, struggling to get away.

"I'm right here." Gale pulls him from Thom. "What the hell is wrong?"

He already knows, but he needs to hear it to make it real.

"Madge is in labor. Rory went to get the midwife-"

There's no waiting when he hears the word labor, Gale takes off, drops his lunch pail and runs as hard as he can toward home.

Rain begins to pour as he reaches their street, and by the time he throws open the front door he's soaked to the bone, but he can't help but grin when he sees Madge on the bed.

Collapsing beside her, he kisses her quickly and takes her hand.

"You look gorgeous," he whispers.

Madge rolls her eyes. "I look disgusting. I'm all sweaty and my hair is a disaster."

He'd normally argue with her, but considering the circumstances he decides to just laugh. She's ridiculous. Gale knows gorgeous when he sees it.

A few minutes tick by before Gale realizes that horrible midwife hasn't shown up.

"She'll be here, Gale," his mom assures him. "The weather is bad."

In Gale's mind she's just another awful person wanting to harm Madge, and with the perfect opportunity to, so when she shows up he simply glares. She needs to know he's on to her.

"About damn time," he grumbles as she takes off her soggy jacket and shakes out her hair.

She ignores him and goes straight to Madge, but she heard him, he knows she did.

After she gives Madge a once over and encourages her to walk, Gale's suspicion that she's something less than subpar increases.

"That's bullshit," he grumbles, glaring at the useless women.

"Just walk with me Gale."

Hours seem to pass, but before Gale knows what's happening, Madge is pushing.

"You're doing great," he encourages her. "Almost there."

She gives him a dark look, obviously disbelieving. Gale doesn't blame her. Things don't feel like they're moving the way they had with his mom when she'd delivered Posy, the birth that was clearest in his mind.

Before he has a chance to worry too much though, Madge's scream mixes with a new noise.

Looking at the midwife, Gale sees her holding a squirming, screaming, bloody baby.

"You have a boy."

He's so small, much smaller than Gale remembers any of his siblings being, but he's still perfect.

Dark haired and fighting the midwife's attempts to clean and swaddle him, Gale knows he's going to be tough. A true boy from the Seam.

Before she can hand his son over, Madge almost doubles over again.

"It's just the afterbirth," the midwife tells them.

"I don't remember it being quite so rough," Gale growls, glaring at her.

"How many babies have you delivered?" The midwife grumbles. "Not half as many as I have."

She looks less confident with each passing minute, until finally Madge is practically screaming again.

"This isn't an afterbirth," Gale snarls at her, desperately cradling his screaming son in one arm and trying to support Madge with the other.

"No," she agrees, sweat glistening on her face. "Not afterbirth."

Something is wrong, very wrong.

Half an hour later he knows just what's wrong.

"Your daughter."

Gale shakes as he stands up, not fully comprehending what's happened just yet as the midwife wipes the baby clean.

Then she puts the second baby in his arms.

His daughter is every bit as perfect as her brother, squirming and crying, messy hair, tiny fists balled up, ready to take on the world.

They finally start to quiet, maybe sensing their womb mate near again, and look to Gale in newfound curiosity.

He's a dad now. He's got two babies.

"Twins," he whispers in amazement. "How the hell?"

"Runs in my family. Guess I should've warned you," Madge explains, her voice raw from yelling.

She almost sounds apologetic, as if she'd chosen to push two babies out as opposed to one.

"Doesn't matter," Gale assures her, shaking his head. It's unexpected but not unwelcome. He'll make it work. "They're perfect."

Madge's voice, soft, barely any strength behind it, cracks across the room.

"I want to see them. I want to see my babies."

Looking up, Gale expects her to be sitting up, beckoning him with her delicate fingers, but she isn't.

Instead, he finds her still limp in the bed, pale and drenched in sweat, her eyes barely open, not even focused as she looks at him.

The midwife is busy with something, but Gale doesn't look, just carries the babies to the bed and settles down. Maybe seeing them will help Madge perk up.

It seems to, her ghostly pale finger reaches up and runs over their son's features, then their daughter's, before dropping back onto the bed in exhaustion.

"They look like you," she sighs, eyes fluttering closed for a second, then blinking back open.

"I think they take after you," he quickly counters, kissing the baby closest and smiling. "Gorgeous, the both of them."

He waits for her to say something, tell him he's got blinders on, that he's impossible, but it doesn't come.

Looking over, he finds her passed out.

"Madge?" He tries to wake her, needs the assurance of her bright eyes that she can wake, but she doesn't stir. "Madge?"

"She's passed out," the midwife explains unnecessarily. "Lost a lot of blood. This girl's not built to deliver one baby. Two is...not good."

Panic starts to swell in Gale's chest as he looks back at Madge.

She's as white as cream, almost transparent, lips pale, a strange, washed out version of Madge.

"What-can we do something?" There has to be something. He can't lose her.

"I'm doing my best."

Gale almost snaps that her best isn't going to be good enough, but Madge's life is in her hands. He should probably keep his sniping to a minimal.

"What can I do?"

She glances up, her expression more annoyed than anything, and jerks her head toward the door.

"Go introduce your family to the little ones, and let me work."

Gale starts to tell her he isn't leaving Madge, but then one of the babies makes a little noise and Gale swallows down his agitation. This is no place for them, and Gale will be more use without both hands full.

"Fine," he grunts. "But I'll be back."

Shifting the babies in his arms, Gale shoots Madge on last worried look, mentally promises her he'll be back soon, and opens the bedroom door.

His family is in the kitchen, the only place with seating, and Gale can hear their murmurs as he starts to come around the corner.

They're all huddled around the table.

Posy is asleep, slumped down in her chair, Vick and Rory are playing what is probably a very dirty game of cards, and their mom has a glass of water clutched in her hands, not really paying any of them much attention.

Clearing his throat, Gale forces a grin.

"You're officially a grandma."

His mom looks up so quickly Gale thinks she'll have a sore neck come tomorrow and the boys both drop their cards. Posy doesn't so much as shift in her seat.

"Gale!" His mom is on her feet and in front of him in the blink of an eye, peeking into the bundle closest to her.

A second passes, she smiles at the baby, then Gale, and down at the second swaddle before it hits her.

"Twins!"

Tears start shining in her eyes.

Rory and Vick both squeeze in closer, eyes wide in amazement, and for once Rory seems speechless.

"Oh Gale," his mom sighs. "They're just beautiful."

"Well of course, they look like Madge."

Almost speechless.

"Can I?" His mom asks, painfully eager to hold her grandbabies.

Gale dips a little and hands her one of the babies.

Her smile brightens and she cradles him carefully, tapping the tip of his nose and pushing the blankets back to examine the messy dark hair under it..

Before he can give her the second baby, Rory jumps in and holds out his hands, smiles weakly. "Please? I won't drop…"

He hesitates, looks uncertain, but eases when Gale nods.

Rory might be a bit of an asshole, but he wouldn't do anything to hurt his niece.

"Briar," Gale finally says. "Her name is Briar." He nods at the baby in his mom's arms. "And that's Sage."

Carefully, Gale places the baby in Rory's arms.

True to his word, Rory treats Briar as if she's glass, gently rocking her in his arms as he and Vick stare at her in amazement.

For a moment Gale almost forgets that he's scared. He just watches his family adoring his children, commenting on their hair and testing out their names, before letting the dread of what he's going to find when he goes back into the bedroom hit him again.

"I need to-uh, I'm going to check on Madge," he softly tells them.

His mom smiles brightly, peaking into Briar's blankets before glancing back to Gale. "Tell her they're just perfect."

Keeping his anxiety inside, Gale just nods.

He won't worry them if he doesn't have to.

Slowly, he makes his way back to the bedroom, stays frozen with his hand on the door handle for a full minute before opening it.

His heart stops cold in his chest when he sees Madge on the bed, the only light from a still burning candle on the bedside table casting her in unearthly shadows.

Her color is no better, and when he looks to the floor and finds a stack of bloody towels and sheets, he knows exactly where her color went.

"Madge?"

She doesn't respond, just stays still, and for one painful moment, Gale is sure she's dead. He's lost her.

Then his eyes adjust to the light and he sees her take a shallow breath, his heart starts again.

The midwife a voice calls to him from the bathroom. "She's just lost a lot of blood."

Dropping down beside the bed, Gale smoothes Madge's sweat soaked hair from her face, presses a kiss to her clammy skin.

"She'll be okay though, right?"

Shrugging, her eyes land on Madge, and she sighs. "It was a lot of blood."

"She's gonna be okay though."

For a minute she just stares at Madge, seemingly trying to find the answer hanging around her, before she sighs. "I don't know."

There's no energy left in him to snap at her. Gale simply slumps on the bed and watches Madge breath, and prays she doesn't stop.

#######

It's several hours before she wake.

Her color is no better, still a chalky white, but she actually sits up and feeds the babies.

"I can't believe you didn't tell us what was going on," his mom scolds him.

"I didn't want to worry you," he mumbles.

She sighs, shakes her head, then gives him a weary smile. "You don't have to carry the weight of the world all alone."

He knows that, but he still doubts he'd have done anything different. His family didn't need to worry until it was necessary.

Vick immediately goes for his stack of medical books, and within an hour is giving Gale tips and hints to help build her blood back. For once, Gale listens, using his brother's advice to plan out meals for Madge for the indefinite future.

Madge seems more amused than anything with the situation, indulging Gale and his attempts to get the color back in her face.

"I'm really fine," she assures him.

Her dad doesn't help when he comes by the next day and mentions that her mom had a 'difficult birth' with Madge too.

'Difficult' didn't even touch what Madge had gone through, and if it weren't for his relief that she'd started to recover, Gale probably would've told her dad about it, consequences be damned.

Instead, he pushes all the worry and fear to the back of his mind as he plays host to all their visitors.

For the most part, he rushes them in and out, his family, Madge's parents, Thom and Bristol, and that drunk Haymitch being the few who manage to linger for a little too long. The rest, neighbors and miners, people from the Hob, he shuffles in and out quickly. She and the babies aren't an exhibit, and seeing as half of them had been bashing her for months, Gale doesn't feel too badly about kicking them out.

Still they brighten Madge's spirits, and she looks so delighted to show off the babies, that Gale supposes they aren't all awful.

Greasy Sae grins at the pair, propped in Gale's arms. "They're just the prettiest things."

She shoves several awkwardly shaped bowls onto the table, all stuffed full of soups and meats, before she leaves.

By the end of the first week, they've got more clothes than Gale thinks they'll ever be able to dress the babies in, but he doesn't care. His kids deserve to be a little spoiled.

He ventures to the Hob and barters for a rocking chair, the one thing no one had been able to gift to them.

His mom looks exasperated. "You can have mine."

Gale shakes his head. His mom still needs hers, she'll babysit eventually, and beside that, he wants Madge to have one all her own.

Even if Gale plans on using it every bit as much as her.

"I'll make you both a bow," Gale whispers to Sage. "And you and Briar can learn to skin and gut, then you can help your mom."

Sage looks about as interested in that as he is in learning to dance, still, he seems soothed by the sound of Gale's voice. His eyes droop as he gums his fist, until finally he drifts off to sleep.

Carefully, he places Sage in the bed beside Briar, already fast asleep, leans in and kisses both their soft dark hair.

He isn't sure how he got so lucky, but he's glad he had. He can't imagine being happier than he is now. Things aren't perfect, but they're pretty damn close.

Pressing a kiss to Madge's hair, he settles in for the night. "Thank you."

She'd given him a chance, even if he hadn't deserved it, and he's come out the better for it.

Madge looks up, nose wrinkled. "What for?"

Gale pulls her closer. "For marrying me."

She starts to argue, sighing his name, but Gale cut her off.

"No," Gale shakes his head. "I know your dad pretty much made you, and you had all the reasons in the world not to, but...I'm glad you did. I hope you're glad you married me too."

Madge shifts, leans up and presses a lingering kiss to his lips before easing back.

She doesn't consider her answer for half as long as she should.

"I'm happy."

There's no hesitation, just honesty, and even though it takes Gale a second to process what she's said, he smiles.

Words fail him, so he uses his go to method of conveying most things with Madge and begins kissing her.

Her lips are still pale, but they're no longer cool. Her skin is soft and warm, not frighteningly clammy, and even more enticing than he remembers it.

The memory of her looking so sick though, quickly curbs his ambitions. She's nowhere near ready for anything physical.

"I'm happy too," he growls, hoping she can't sense the disappointment his body is feeling. Because even if it's frustrated, every inch of him loves her and would wait forever for her.

Her lips switch a bit as she waves toward the cradle. "I'd hope so. I did give you twice the children of a normal woman."

Gale grins. "Hey I contributed you know?"

"Well don't be so ambitious next time," she snorts.

A scowl forms on Gale's face. "Next time?" She's nuts. "There's no 'next time' Madge. Two is plenty, especially with how hard the delivery was on you."

She's lost her mind if she thinks he'd want to do that again.

"Gale…"

"No," he cuts her off, he won't listen to it. It's nonsense. "You didn't see how much blood was there. I've never seen that much before. You wouldn't wake up. I thought you were gonna die Madge."

And he'd been helpless to do anything. He never wants to feel that way again.

"I just got you and I thought I was gonna lose you." He feels his heart speed up and his arms tighten around her. "We got two perfect kids. Let's not push our luck."

He's got more than he deserves after the way he treated her, and he doesn't want to jeopardize the happiness he's got, however little he deserves it.

Madge stares at him, her nose wrinkled up in thought before she lurches forward, her lips a tantalizing breath away.

"Gale…" she whispers, "I love you."

Stunned speechless, Gale just stares at her, trying to make sense of her words.

Even if he was awful to her, treated her badly, she loves him.

He smiles, a weight he didn't even realize he'd been carrying vanishing from his shoulders.

"I love you too," he whispers, brushing a pale strand from her face. "I loved you from the start, even if I was shitty about it."

Madge scoots forward, her soft body pressing agonizingly on him, until her forehead is against his, her bright eyes locked with his for an heartbeat before her lips are on his.

She pulls back an inch, her eyes shining.

"Me too."

Gale catches her in another kiss.

Kissing gets his thoughts across better than words anyways.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I'm just playing with Suzanne Collins' characters and her world. They're hers. Not mine. Any lines from the books are hers too.
> 
> AN: Silly little addition to this universe. Enjoy, if anyone is still reading.

Gale feels his back pop as he shifts in the bed.

Madge curls tighter to him and sighs, her warm breath ghosting over his skin, sending a pleasant shiver up his back.

He should get up, the weather is perfect for hunting, crisp and cool. His snares are probably full, and he's seen several bushes of blackberries heavy and waiting to be picked. If he trades right, he might be able to get some butter and flour, then they'll be able to have a cobbler for dessert.

Despite his mind telling him to get up, the sun will rise soon and burn off the morning, his body refuses to budge. It's too comfortable where it is.

As if punctuating the desirability of his current situation, Madge's smooth leg winds around his and he knows he isn't going to make it out before the sun is well in the sky.

Rolling, he pins Madge under him and presses a few lazy kisses to her neck, inhaling the scent of her hair for a few seconds before pulling back.

Blinking slowly, Madge's pale lips quirk up, into a sleepy smile.

"Happy Birthday," she murmurs.

Grinning back, Gale catches her lips, lets his whole body press to hers and enjoy the feeling of her worn nightgown against his skin.

His hands have just barely wandered down her body, begun inching up her thigh, bunching her nightgown up as he goes, when he hears the tell-tale pounding of bare feet running down the hall outside their bedroom door.

Gale barely has time to roll off his wife, help her straighten her gown, when the door flies open and the kids pour in.

Briar is the first on the bed, leaping wildly up and tumbling into Gale's lap.

"Happy Birthday, dad!" She shouts, flinging her arms around his neck, kissing his cheek. "You should shave."

Chuckling, Gale presses a scratchy kiss to her forehead. "Thanks, beautiful."

Looking past her, he sees Miles struggling up the foot of the bed, but before Gale can help him Daisy has come up behind her younger brother and clumsily hoisted him up by the back of his pants.

"Thank'y, Dais," he shouts at her before his short legs stumble across the bed and he flops onto Gale, taking his face in his inexplicably sticky hands and grinning. "Daddy! Happy Bir'day! You old!"

"Yeah!" Daisy yells, landing with a plop beside him. "Happy Birthday!"

A final pair of feet pad in, and Gale laughs as he sees Sage lugging a still soundly sleeping Wren through the doorway.

"She was awake," he grumbles as Madge crawls across the bed and takes her youngest daughter from him.

"It's early," Madge reminds him, laughing when Wren grunts in her sleep, her eyes opening enough to shoot her brother a nasty glare before nodding off again.

Still looking thoroughly put out, Sage huffs before lunging onto the bed, nearly bouncing Daisy off and into the wall.

"Happy Birthday! Sorry, Daisy."

Daisy mutters an 'Is okay' before snuggling tightly into Gale's side.

Gale wraps an arm around her, protecting her from her siblings wild flailing.

She's his easiest child, definitely his calmest, even if she was the definition of a surprise.

They'd had no plans for any kids past Briar and Sage, their birth was traumatic enough for a few lifetimes.

For four years Gale had been almost religiously careful, he wasn't about to put Madge at risk again.

Then Thom had announced Bristol was pregnant, after what felt like a lifetime of trying, and insisted on a party.

"It's for my baby!" He'd drunkenly shouted, shoving a sticky cup of home brew into Gale's hand as he and Madge arrived after dropping the kids off at their Grammy's house.

So Gale had drank, and drank, and drank a little more-it was a party after all-until Madge had half carried him home as he'd tugged on her sundress.

"Gale," she'd laughed, "stop! We're outside!"

They'd barely made it in the house before Gale lifted Madge up and staggered into the bedroom.

She'd waited three months before she told him what his drunken self had done.

"You can't be pregnant," he'd insisted. "We've been careful."

"Not careful enough," she'd told him, her eyes wide and terrified, fearful of his response.

Just like before, one little lapse in judgment had proved enough to up-end their life.

For half a heartbeat he'd almost told her they needed to get rid of it, she wasn't strong enough to have another baby and he definitely wasn't strong enough to watch her almost bleed to death again.

Just as quickly as the thought formed he'd pushed it away. Getting rid of it was every bit as dangerous as a delivery and he couldn't do that to their baby.

So he'd swallowed down the bile in his throat and smiled.

"It's gonna be okay," he'd told her, pulling her to him and smoothing down her hair, letting her tears of relief soak his shirt. "It'll be okay."

He'd make it okay.

The next day he'd gone to that shitty midwife and begged her to check Madge over and tell him what he could do to help.

"Stop knocking her up, that'd help plenty," the old woman snapped, her bones creaking as she'd hobbled around her dirty house. Glaring at him, she'd huffed. "I'll come look her over tomorrow."

And she had, complaining the whole time as Gale had hovered over her.

"Will you get your nose out of my way?" She'd snapped as she checked Madge over.

"Everything seems okay?" Madge asked, gnawing painfully on her bottom lip once the check-up was over.

"Everything seemed okay last time, other than your hips, child," the midwife reminded her. "It's not the carrying you've got problems with. It's the getting that little devil out that gets you."

She'd left after that, telling Madge to eat plenty of greens and meats and she'd check her again in a month.

Daisy had come right on time, in the early morning of a cool spring day.

The labor hadn't been half as long, not nearly as rough or bloody, and at the end if it Madge hadn't gone through another round if contractions. Gale hadn't watched his wife turn into a pale specter slipping away from him. They'd come out of it with a perfect little girl and nothing more.

She'd been paler than the twins, not quite as fair as Madge, but close. Her hair had been light, matched perfectly to her baby blue eyes, and Gale had known she'd be every bit her mother's child in looks as the twins were his.

"We need to stick her outside," Briar had told Gale when he'd crouched down to give her and Sage their first look at their sister. "She's too doughy. I think she needs to cook longer."

"She's fine," Gale explained. "She's just got your mom's color."

Sage had carefully held out his finger and smiled when she'd taken it.

"I like her," he'd simply said. "Even if she's doughy."

Over the years Daisy has darkened in the sun, her hair hasn't stayed such a pale blonde, but she's still much lighter than her brothers and sisters, and her eyes have stayed bright and blue.

His little Daisy isn't fragile. Gale has seen her be just as wild as her sibling, bounce around and down and then get back up and go again, but she still seems so small and breakable to him. A little girl like her doesn't belong in the Seam.

A small part of his mind knows it's her resemblance to Madge that makes him treat her more gently, but he can't seem to stop himself.

Giggling, Daisy grins up at him and Gale kisses the top of her head before he feels Miles crawling into his back.

He hadn't been quite as big a surprise as Daisy, Gale remembers his conception very clearly, but he definitely hadn't been planned.

Gale had gotten promoted to Shift Supervisor, just after Daisy's turned two, and he'd taken Madge on a real date to celebrate.

They'd worn their nicest clothes and gone to the only restaurant in Town, a dusty building run by an elderly man and his homely daughters, ate pasta and enjoyed a rare evening without children climbing all over them.

"You should have a headache every once in a while," the old midwife grumbled as she stumped into the house that time.

"It's been two years," Gale growled, his face burning.

She'd waved him off, dismissing him from the room as she'd looked Madge over.

"I'm too old to have your breathing down my neck this time."

Gale felt her age was plenty good enough reason to watch over her shoulder, but he'd sat in the living room with the kids after Made had gently told him to not argue.

"I thought you said momma wasn't havin' any more babies?" Briar asked, nose wrinkled up in an uncanny imitation of her mother.

Before Gale could think of a good explanation, Sage answered.

"Uncle Rory said dad can't keep it in his pants and momma is too fertile for her own good." He frowned.

Briar's face had scrunched up as she'd looked at Gale.

"Daddy, what can't you keep in your pants?"

Gale had given Rory a long talk after that, most of which was done with his obnoxious brother in a headlock.

"So help me, Rory, if I have to explain sex to my six year olds because of you I'm going to make your life hell."

And as his brother's Shift Supervisor, he was more than capable of making Rory plenty miserable.

Miles had come during a mid-January snowstorm, nearly causing the midwife to freeze on the walk over and keeping Gale's family from being there.

"He's got so much hair," Briar commented as she held her newest brother, helped by Madge.

"You had that much when you were born too," Madge told her. "Aunt Posy used to put bows in yours."

Briar made a face. "Ugh!"

Miles had gurgled happily at his sister's disgust.

He's a bit like Rory in that way, delighting in things annoying his sibling

Flipping over Gale's shoulder, Miles giggles as he sprawls out, his foot going in Wren's face and finally pulling her from her slumber.

"Stop, Miles," Sage tells him, pushing his foot from Wren's face. "You'll hurt her."

Coming from the boy who'd half dragged her down the hall, Gale thinks that's a bit of a reach, but he just laughs as Wren squeals happily and grabs for her brother's foot again, trying to bite it.

"No Wen, bad Wen," Miles tells her seriously, wagging a tiny finger at her for emphasis.

She grabs it and gums it cheerfully, oblivious.

"No Wen!" Miles grumbles. "Stop."

Madge gently pulls his hand from her youngest child's mouth. "Don't sweetheart. You'll hurt your brother. Tell him sorry."

Wren makes a noise, as close to sorry as her few months will let her get, as she drools down her front.

"S'okay," Miles tells her.

"Did you plan this one?" Rory had asked, after Gale told his family of Madge's last, and Gale did mean last, pregnancy.

They didn't, but Gale hadn't wanted to admit to another unplanned pregnancy.

"Yes."

"There's a first."

Gale had sworn Madge to secrecy and she'd heartily agreed.

"We can at least look responsible one time," she'd sighed.

Wren, their happy, bubbly baby, had arrived just months ago, in the middle of a bright summer day.

She squeals in delight as Gale plucks her from Madge's arms and gives her a jiggle.

"Are you not gonna give daddy a hug too?"

With a toothless grin she makes another happy noise before drooling on his shoulder.

"Come on, daddy," Daisy says, grabbing his hand and tugging him. "We gotta get up and eat birthday breakfast."

Which means Gale needs to cook breakfast. Making perfect kids and being a great mom Madge has mastered, cooking she hasn't.

Grunting, Wren still in his arms and Miles hanging on his back, Gale gets up and let's Daisy pull him along, following Sage and Briar out the door.

He hears sizzling and smells something that smells suspiciously like sausage in the air, and his heart drops to his ankles. The kids have tried to prepare breakfast all on their own. The kitchen is probably on fire.

When they turn into the kitchen he feels relief wash over him.

Rory is at the stove, prodding a fat sausage while Vick is pulling out a dozen tesserae grain biscuits, and Posy is setting the table as a very pregnant Charity waddles around with her, attempting to help.

"Happy Birthday, baby," his mom tells him, materializing beside him and kissing his cheek, adding a whispered 'you should shave' before scooping Miles off his back.

"Gammy!" He cheers as she settles him on her hip.

Posy swoops in and gives him a hug before tugging him to the table.

"The kids wanted to surprise you, so they let us in early to cook," she explains.

Charity plops into the chair across from him, out of breath and uncomfortable, before smiling.

"Happy birthday," she tells him.

Gale smiles and shifts Wren on his lap, gesturing to his sister-in-law's middle. "Ready?"

She sighs. "Beyond ready."

Madge drops beside Gale and smiles. "I know the feeling."

Slowly they all take their seats at the table, pulling up chairs from the living room to accommodate the extra people, before diving into the meal.

Gale watches as Vick pushes extra food onto Charity's plate when she isn't looking and then as Rory butter's Daisy's toast for her.

"I traded my as-my rear off to get those sausages," Rory tells Gale. "So you'd better enjoy them, birthday boy."

Gale takes an unnecessarily large bite after that, grinning smugly.

#######

Gale's mother makes blackberry cobbler when Gale, the twins, Vick, and Rory come home from the woods.

Sage attributes their haul, which is more sizable than normal, to birthday luck.

"We need to come out on everyone's birthday," he tells Gale when they reset their last snare.

"We do," Rory mutters, sucking on a cut on his thumb, clearly not thinking the day is too lucky.

Miles gets more sticky berry juice on his clothes than in his mouth, Wren gets it in her hair when no one is looking, and despite their best efforts, Briar and Sage end up sticky messes. Only Daisy manages to not be a disaster.

She still gets scrubbed down with her siblings though.

"I guess I should be glad we got interrupted earlier," Gale chuckles, once all the kids are clean and collapsed on the bed around them, exhausted from an early day and a rare occasion of overeating.

Gale tries not to think about how often his kids don't get all they'd like to eat. They eat better than most kids in the Seam, he's made sure of it. He hasn't let his babies go to bed hungry, even during the leanest winter.

Food isn't plentiful, not by a long shot, but it isn't nonexistent as it so often was when he was little.

With each new mouth to feed, he's worked harder to make sure they're always fed, even if they could eat more.

Pushing the thought away, he looks over at Madge and grins.

She's still as pretty as the first time he'd seen her. Not even a harsh life in the Seam, a life she had no business being a part of, that she only has because of a monumental lapse in judgment, hasn't stolen her beauty.

There's no harsh lines on her face, no hopelessness in her eyes, just a simple sweetness Gale has always coveted.

"I dunno," she shrugs, lips twitching into a grin. "Might be nice to get an even number. Unless it's twins again."

Gale's insides lurch. "Don't even think it."

She laughs, bright and sweetly. "Don't worry. I'm more than happy to leave the grandbaby making to Vick and Charity."

"Me too," Gale agrees.

His mom has four kids, let the other three give her some grandchildren.

Well, Vick and Rory anyways, Posy can stay single and childless forever as far as Gale is concerned.

"I'm glad we have them though," she adds, a soft smile on her lips as she brushes a wild strand of hair from Briar's face.

"Yeah," Gale chuckles.

He can't imagine a life without them. He may have wanted to stop after that first disastrous delivery, but he wouldn't trade any of them, even for the security of a life where they didn't exist and he hadn't had to worry for Madge's safety.

Yawning, he slumps lower in the bed, against new fluffy pillows, a birthday gift from Rory's girlfriend, a curly haired magistrate that had only moved to the district a few months ago. Gale likes her, even if she's clearly a poor judge of character.

Scooting Wren up, Madge leans past her to Gale, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"Happy birthday."

Gale catches her lips before she pulls too far away, growling low against her mouth. "Thanks."

And if they didn't have a bed full of their kids, he'd show her just how happy his birthday had been.

Considering that over half of said children were the result of celebrations, he supposes that might be for the best.

Pulling Sage closer and adjusting Daisy's head in the crook of his arm, Gale sighs.

He hadn't gotten to start his day quite the way he'd wanted, but he can't imagine ending it any better.

Well, almost.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I'm just playing with Suzanne Collins' characters and her world. They're hers. Not mine. Any lines from the books are hers too.
> 
> AN: Just wanted to play with the kiddos' personalities a bit. Hopefully they come off as distinct and realistic. I've been playing with this for a while (the cut sections are so extensive they may end up as chapters of their own someday), so I also hope it isn't a complete mess. Happy Halloween! May this be more a treat than a trick.

Rain batters the roof, drizzles down the window panes as thunder rumbles in the distance.

It's been storming all night, adding to the dark atmosphere already hanging over the district as one day melts into the next.

Reaping Day.

Gale has dreaded the twins reaching Reaping age since he'd stood under a simmering sun the first time after their birth.

Briar had squirmed in his arms, her wide eyes searching around her at the strange sights and soft sobs reaching her tiny ears. Sage had been calmer, his chubby cheeks settled on Madge's shoulder as he'd dozed, oblivious to the pain about to occur around him.

Rory had stood a head taller than the other boys his age, while Vick had slouched low, apparently trying to disappear into the sea of boys around him. It was a waste of his efforts. He'd grown so tall and lanky there was no way he could hope to vanish in the crowd.

Neither one of their names were called that day. That honor went to a boy and girl Gale didn't know. What was left of them had come home a few weeks later in flimsy wood boxes, buried with little fanfare in the District Twelve cemetery.

That first Reaping had put a cold fear into Gale's soul, worse than when any of his siblings started having their names placed in that awful bowl.

He'd stayed up later with the babies for weeks after that, woken at even the smallest noise they made, doubled his traps in the woods, wore himself out thinking about what was coming that he couldn't stop until Madge put an end to it.

"What will be will be, Gale," she'd whispered as she held him close, refusing to let him get up and check the babies for what must've been the tenth time in a night. "You can't wear yourself ragged over what you can't stop."

She was right, he knew that. Her name had been put in the Reaping bowl just like everyone else's. Being the daughter of the Mayor hadn't stopped that.

Nothing Gale could do would stop it either.

Still, he'd done his damnedest to keep their names from ever being in that bowl more times than absolutely necessary.

His pride had learned to take a backseat, bartering and trading, accepting help from his in-laws and that filthy drunk Haymitch, if it meant his children's names were in the bowl as few times as possible.

It was a double edged sword, having influential family. Something he should've learned years before but somehow always forgot.

"Kids at school said our names probably aren't even in the bowl, because of papa," Briar had told him as they'd say on a downed tree and cleaned their catch of fish, only days before. "I told them to shut their lying mouths. Shoulda just hit them."

"Mom said no more fighting," Sage reminded her as he gutted his own fish. "And Principal said she'd give you detention for next school year if you started another."

"I don't start fights," Briar muttered darkly, wiping blood flecks from her cheek and roughly flinging her fishes head way.

Gale had agreed with his daughter, a good whipping from her might've been just what those mouthy little bastards needed, but he'd just nodded he agreement with Sage. Madge had warned him against encouraging their daughter's more violent tendencies, even when he wanted to.

Why Madge had let her dad give their kids lessons in boxing if she didn't want them fighting made no sense sometimes. Most times.

"They need to know how to protect themselves, not punch people for saying things they don't like," Madge had explained simply.

And people, kids, had said plenty they didn't like.

Gale had hoped all the nasty rumors about Madge were dead and gone by the time the twins started school, but when Briar and Sage came home with bloody noses and scraped knees, torn school uniforms from a scuffle, he found out all the ugliness had only simmered low out of view.

"They called momma a whore," Briar told them as Madge cleaned blood from her face with a damp rag, her expression weary.

"Then they said Bri and Daisy'd be whores when they grew up too," Sage added. "Dad, what's a whore?"

That hadn't been a pleasant conversation, and Gale had gone to work the next day in a sour mood.

"Kids just like to be little assholes," Rory had tried to calm him. "It'll die down."

Slowly, very slowly, it had. Sage and Briar got in fewer fights defending their mom's honor. Eventually, as Sage grew taller, outshooting everyone in his year, kids did stop trashing Madge in front of him. Briar was another story.

Girls were a nasty kind of vicious, calling Madge names and making insinuations about their family and life, and Briar's temperament didn't suit her to it.

Jealousy, Madge told him, was at the heart of all the teasing and torment Briar was subjected to.

"It's the price of privilege."

Even if she has no real privilege. Her grandparents may be the richest people in the district, but Briar is still the child of a miner.

That doesn't seem to make any difference to the kids at school though.

"The truth doesn't matter. They believe what they want."

And what they want to believe is a load of crap.

"It's 'cause she's prettier than them," Gale finally decided. It isn't money, but good genes the girls are jealous of. "They'll be a bunch of hags like their moms and she's gonna end up like you."

"A whore?"

Rolling his eyes, Gale pulled her into a hug, pressed his lips to her neck and shook his head.

"Gorgeous. Smart. Perfect."

"That's a bit of a reach," Madge snorted.

"Less of a reach than being a whore," Gale growled.

Whatever the reason, jealousy or assholery, Briar still comes home with ripped uniforms and black eyes, telling stories of bathroom brawls and with letters from her teacher and principal at least once a month.

Gale wishes being tough as nails made Briar safe, made any of his kids safe, but it doesn't.

Another clap of thunder shakes the house and Gale feels Madge nuzzle in closer to him, her breath warm on his skin.

"Can't sleep either?" She asks, sounding every bit as awake and exhausted as Gale feels.

Wrapping his arms more tightly around her, Gale shakes his head. His voice is broken in his chest, unable to answer her.

She doesn't say anything else, just begins humming softly.

The sound, combined with the gentle way her body vibrates against his, lulls Gale into a kind of stupor.

He drifts off to sleep just as the rain is finally beginning to lighten up.

#######

When he wakes from his restless sleep it's to a clammy, silver skied morning.

The rain has stopped, but thunder still rumbles through the air infrequently, letting them know the threat of another downpour is possible.

Gale numbly puts on his nicest shirt, only unpatched pants, and fights his hair into something presentable, wondering just why they have got get dressed up.

"Because of the cameras," Madge reminds him wearily as she turns her exposed back to him. "If they take a shot of the crowd they'll want us looking our best."

And they can't upset the delicate sensibilities of the Capitol, Gale thinks irritably as he zips Madge's dress up.

Turning back to him, Madge forces a weak smile, her color more than a little pasty. She reaches out and smooths the front of Gale's shirt, pale eyes staring at nonexistent flaws in the repaired seams she'd mended days prior before sighing.

"It's going to be okay. They're going to be fine," she finally says, more to herself than Gale. Her eyes finally focus as they rise to Gale's face, chewing her lip. "They're twelve. Twelve year olds don't get Reaped."

It's a myth, Gale knows that. Prim was only twelve when her name was called, but he doesn't remind Madge of that. She needs what little hope she can cling to today.

Pulling her into a hug, Gale rests his chin on the top of her head, inhales the clean scent of soap hanging around her.

"Nothing's going to happen to them," he tells her, meaning every word of it.

Nothing will happen to his kids. He won't let anything happen to them. Not today, not ever.

#######

Sage is already awake and sitting on the edge of his and Miles' bed when Gale comes to wake him.

His hair is a mess, more so than normal, and Gale runs a hand over his face and sighs, knowing his son had slept just as poorly as he had.

"Bad night, bud?"

Looking up, Sage gives him a weak smile before shrugging.

"Miles kept crying," he says, looking over his shoulder at his brother, now rolling over with a grunt.

"Uh-uh," Miles protests, sitting up on his knees and glaring, crossing his arms in defiance. Then he deflates. "I only cried a little daddy."

Stepping into the room, which is only just big enough for the mattress the boys share, Gale sets down beside Sage, letting Miles scramble up beside him.

"That's okay," Gale assures him, pulling Miles into his lap. "It's scary."

"But they won't take Sage or Bri, right?" He asks, grey eyes locked on Gale. "You won't let them, will you?"

Gale wishes he were half as powerful as Miles thinks he is, had the power to protect them from the bastards treating their lives like pawns in a game, but he isn't.

Wrapping his arms around Miles, Gale sighs.

"No one is taking your brother or sister."

He feels Sage lean into him, his messy head resting on his shoulder, and when he looks up, he gives his dad a weak smile.

Sage isn't like Miles, still able to believe the fairy tale that Gale is something more than a poor miner who had the good luck to marry a princess. He knows that if his name is called, there's nothing Gale can do to stop them taking him away. At least nothing legal.

"Dad won't let anything happen," he tells Miles, the lie coming so easily Gale almost believes it himself. It's a little concerning.

He's pretending, if only for his brother's peace of mind, and Gale ruffles his hair, grateful his son inherited Madge's poker face.

"No one is taking my kids," he promises, hoping his lie is as solid sounding as his son's.

#######

Madge has carefully pulled Briar's hair up, into an elegant kind of bun, and is working on wrestling Wren into one of the hand-me-down dresses she'd inherited from her sisters when Gale finally finishes talking with the boys.

"Briar was up and dressed already," Madge explains as Wren squirms away, dress half off.

Judging by the grim look Madge shoots Gale, and the anxious expressions on both Briar and Daisy's faces as they sit somberly on the couch, he's certain by now that the only person who'd had a good night sleep was Wren.

"Daddy! We have party!" Wren squeal, throwing herself at Gale's leg and grinning up, holding the hem of her dress out for him to see. "I wearin' party dress!"

Gale wishes she could stay naive and sweet forever, not understand her pretty Reaping Day dress isn't for a party but a funeral, but he knows that isn't possible. Come a few years, she'll be just as frightened and unnaturally quiet as her sisters.

She twirls, sending the dress spinning around her before grinning up a Gale.

"I pretty."

Despite the heaviness around them, the Reaping looming just hours away, Gale chuckles.

"You're gorgeous, baby girl."

Scooping her up, she squeals in delight as Gale presses butterfly kisses to her soft little cheek.

She finally stops him, eyes still bright as she holds his face between her little hands. "Daddy, you nee'a shave."

Pressing another kiss to her nose, Gale just laughs.

"You need to spend less time with Grammy."

She's putting silly ideas in her head.

Setting Wren down, Gale sends her back to Madge to finish getting dressed while Gale settles onto the couch between Briar and Daisy.

Briar fidgets with her dress, nose wrinkling in an uncanny imitation of Madge as she picks at the lacy hem. She isn't normally so still, so soft looking. She's always moving, doing, smiling and ready for an adventure. Quiet doesn't suit his rough and tumble child.

He feels Daisy lean into him, take his hand and squeeze it.

"Momma helped me look up st-stick-stickstictics at the library and it said only seventeen twelve year olds have ever been Reaped," she tells him softly.

"I won't be twelve forever," Briar grumbles, crossing her arms and slouching back in the couch.

Daisy shrinks down, sorely disappointed her hard work hadn't comforted her sister. "I was just-I thought it might make you feel be-"

"Well, it doesn't," Briar snaps, eyes narrowed on Daisy's glowing cheeks.

"Hey," Gale cuts her off. He knows she's scared, but that doesn't give her a free pass to treat her sister like crap.

Chewing her tongue, Briar's eyes cut from Gale to Daisy and back again, before finally closing her eyes as she sighs.

"Sorry, Daisy," she mutter, no real conviction behind her voice as she slumps further into the couch.

Beside him, Daisy sighs, forces a smile, then snuggles into his side.

She rarely lets her sister's rudeness upset her, and today, when everyone's nerves are raw, is no different. It's a mercy he's forever grateful for.

Settling back on the couch, Gale wraps his arms around his girls, pulls them closer and presses kisses to their hair.

"Nothing is gonna happen today," he tells them.

Briar stiffens, takes a sharp breath. "You don't know that."

She isn't like Sage, content to let him soothe her with sweet sounding lies, Briar has too much of Gale's fire in him. The truth, no matter how bitter, is preferable to a sugar coated comfort.

"No," Gale begins, his eyes locking with Briar's. "But I believe it. I've worked hard so that you and Sage's names would be in that bowl as few times as possible, so that your little brother and sisters' names wouldn't be in there as many times as mine was, and I have to believe that's going to pay off."

It has too.

For a moment Briar is quiet, then her lips quirk up into a tight smile.

"I know," she tells him, sitting up on her knees and wrapping her arms around him, pressing a kiss to his rough cheek. "Thanks, dad."

She doesn't believe it, Gale knows that, but he appreciates the effort, for Daisy's sake at least.

Plopping back down, Briar makes a face.

"Wren is right, you need to shave."

"If your mom doesn't mind it then neither should you," he tells her, grinning at the disgusted expression she makes.

"Ew!"

"Ew, you," Gale laughs.

Daisy crawls in his lap, settles against his chest and tilts her head up.

"I like it. It makes you look dis-distinguish-ed," she tells him.

Gale is pretty sure she doesn't know what 'distinguished' means, but he takes the compliment anyways.

Sage and Miles finally emerge from their room, Sage still trying to flatten his unruly hair and failing miserably. Miles, by the looks of it, made no such effort. His hair is still sticking up in all directions, smashed flat at the back where he'd slept in it a little.

"Oh, Miles," Madge sighs. "Your hair is a mess."

"I comb-ed it," he tells her, patting his head.

"It was worse," Sage agrees, eyeing his brother's disastrous hair.

Madge sets Wren down, now fully dressed, and sighs as she glances at the clock.

There's no fixing it now and Gale doubts Madge cares any more than he does.

A thick silence settles over them as they realize it's almost time to start walking, punctuated only by Wren jabbering happily to herself as she awkwardly buttons up her ragdoll's dress.

No one wants to be the first to start to the door, acknowledge that the moment when that air-head Effie Trinket will snatch two lives away is painfully close.

It's inevitable though, it has been since the moment the twins drew their first breaths. No amount of waiting will change that.

"Ready!" Wren shouts, holding her doll overhead and beaming at her family.

Standing, Gale nods, holds open his arms for Wren. "Hop up then."

Twirling, admiring her dress once more, Wren then races to Gale and leaps up, letting him catch her and toss her up, earning a giggle as he swings her into the cradle of his arms.

What will be will be, no avoiding it.

#######

The clouds have burned off by the time they reach the center of town.

Briar's brave face stays intact until they reach the lines separating girls and boys, sending the ages into their own roped off section in front of the stage.

Her chin quivers as Madge brushes a few wayward strands from her face and straightens the front of her blouse, then pulls her into a hug while hoping the sleepless night doesn't make her fall apart at the seams.

"Just keep your eyes on papa and Mr. Abernathy, okay? Just focus on them."

That's what Madge had always done, all those long years. It wouldn't make a difference, but it would help keep her calm.

Nodding, Briar rubs her nose, then lunges at Madge again.

"I love you."

Madge presses a kiss to her cheek. "I love you too, sweetheart."

She isn't her affectionate child, and the sudden display cuts Madge to the core.

Turning to Gale, Briar wraps her arms around him, pressing her face to his middle to hide the tears that had sprung up in her eyes.

Wiping her own eyes, Madge smooths out Sage's hair and smiles.

"It'll be okay, mom," he whispers as he hugs her, pulls back and smiles softly. "I'll go find some strawberries for you after this."

He isn't as confident as he's playing, but he's her comforter. Sage keeps his emotions, what he really wants to say or do buried.

He's got to be terrified, but he won't risk letting it show.

She blames herself for that. He's spent too much time mimicking Madge's tightly guarded feelings, listening when she's warned him and Briar about rising to the kids at schools baiting. It's kept him out of fights, more than Briar, but its left him stifled.

Pressing a kiss to his cheek, still smooth and soft, no prickly stubble like Gale's, and nods.

"We'll make candies," she finally says, wiping a tear from her eye, refusing to let it fall.

"Yeah," he nods, reaching out and ruffling Miles' already messy hair. "Yeah, candy."

He grabs Daisy and lifts her off her feet in a hug, then kisses Wren's hair, then her doll's, before wrapping an arm around Briar's shoulder.

"Ready?"

Tears gone and jaw set, eyes hard, Briar nods.

With one last smile, they vanish into the sea of children and Madge has to bite back a sob as Miles and Daisy wrap around her middle.

"They'll be okay," Gale tells her, hoisting Wren onto his shoulders. He isn't convincing, but Madge nods anyway.

"Yeah, they'll be okay."

#######

Madge stands on the tips of her toes, craning her neck to try to see her children's heads.

It's hopeless though, they're lost amid the crowd of frightened kids.

"Where is they?" Wren asks, squinting into the sun, now boiling hot overhead.

Gale gives her a little jiggle and she giggles, forgetting her search as she hugs his head.

"Think I see them," Vick tells her, shifting on his feet and shielding his eyes. "No, no, nevermind."

He gives her an apologetic smile before being yanked by the hand.

"Daddy! Daddy! Lift me up! I wanna see like Wen," Fern pleads, puckering her lower lip.

Laughing, Vick grabs her up and tosses her over his shoulder. "Like this?"

"No, daddy, no!" She giggles before Charity shushes her.

"No yelling, Fern," she half whispers, eyes wide and searching as she shifts their newly born son in her arms, maybe expecting Peacekeepers to come and quiet her child permanently. "Not so loud."

"I wouldn't worry too much, Char," Rory says, appearing beside her and scooping the baby from her arms. "Chaparral said the Peacekeepers are mostly working the perimeter, watching for people skipping out early. I guess it's gotten to be a problem the past couple of years."

That doesn't seem to ease Charity's nerves, though Madge imagines the way Rory is holding her son might not be helping the matters.

"Give him to me," Hazelle huffs, smiling as Rory hands the baby off to her. "No wonder Chaparral doesn't want to have kids. If she's seen how you hold your nieces and nephews it's got to have scared the wits out of the poor girl."

"That's cold, mom," Rory says flatly before grinning. "But possibly entirely true."

Gale grumbles something that sounds like 'shocker' before the anthem blares overhead and the color drains from his face.

Madge feels her stomach turn over as Daisy's cool little hand wraps around hers.

Looking down, Madge tries to smile for her, impart even just a little comfort, but knows it comes across as more of a grimace.

Daisy gives her hand a squeeze and forces a weak smile of her own before leaning in and hugging her around the middle.

Fighting down tears of panic, Madge hugs her daughter back and focuses her eyes on her father just like she had as a child, hoping her children are as fortunate as she'd managed to be during her Reapings for all those years.

#######

The names that are called don't burn into Madge's mind, she only manages to hear them to realize that neither one are her babies.

"It's over," Gale whispers in her ear as he holds her, presses a kiss to her hair.

Madge almost whispers back 'until next year' but bites it back. They've survived one Reaping unscathed and that's one more than two families managed today.

Briar come racing through the crowd, vaulting over the ropes and into Gale's arms, the tail of her shirt untucked from her blouse and flying wildly behind her.

"What did I tell you?" Gale laughs, swinging her up as Wren dances wildly around them.

Sage emerges, paler than usual, but smiles as Miles jumps on his back, whooping loudly.

He scoops up Wren, then Daisy, spinning with them until they fall into a laughing, doubled over Briar and then into Gale.

Beside Madge, Hazelle sighs, the wrinkles at her eyes deepening as she smiles at her grandchildren.

"I don't know how many more of these I can survive," she admits, eyes on the baby now squirming in Vick's arms, probably hungry and hot by now.

Nodding, Madge massages her temples and watches Gale and Rory take turns lifting the younger girls over their heads, some kind of strange test of strength apparently.

"One down," Madge mutters in response, brushing hair from her face. And far too many to go.

There's no changing that though, all they can do is meet the future when it comes.

"Come on momma, we gotta get to papa and nona's house to make candy!" Miles shouts as he drags Madge away from the Justice Building, the old familiar path to her parent's house. "You too Grammy."

Laughing, Madge lets him tug her along, Hazelle trailing behind with Vick and Charity while Gale and Rory race with the kids up ahead.

What will be will be, Madge reminds herself again, as Miles lets her hand go and runs to catch up with his siblings.

She won't waste her every day worrying over the things she can't change. She refuses to let the Capitol have anymore of her life.

Scooping up Wren, who'd stopped to investigate a rock she found more interesting than the race with her family, Madge's face eases into her first real smile of the day.

"Come on, sweetheart," she whispers to her youngest. "Let's go make candy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN pt 2: Vick and Charity's son's name is Boone. I couldn't work it in naturally without giving into the urge to have Rory make fun of it, which seemed out of place in this chapter, so it was cut. Just felt bad leaving the little guy nameless.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I'm just playing with Suzanne Collins' characters and her world. They're hers. Not mine. Any lines from the books are hers too.
> 
> AN: I just enjoy toying with this universe too much, forgive me. Maybe in the future I'll write a story with an actual plot/story in this au, but first I'd have to have a plan of where to go. Until then, you just get snippets of the world. If anyone cares. Also, thanks to NurseKelly for the encouragement.

Gale pulls his cap lower on his head, turns up his collar to the wind and stuffs his hands deeper in his pockets, trying to stave off the bone chilling air and icy drizzle coming down on him.

The mines closed early today. Several of the loading carts, ancient as they were, broke down, leaving the crews with full loads and no way to empty them. When the engineers failed to get them working after two hours, the decision had come down to close rather than continue to pay men to sit on their asses.

Much as Gale would miss the hours of pay, he won't miss being out in this shit weather.

Glancing up, he spots a curl of smoke rising from the chimney of his house and smiles, quickening his step.

The front porch creaks as he steps up, and a speckled goat peaks out from under it, glaring at him for a moment before bleating a greeting.

She's an ugly, bad tempered old thing, nothing like lady had been, but Wren loved the damn thing the moment she'd seen her in the Hob.

"Please, daddy!" She'd begged, big blue eyes as wide as she could get them, lower lip puckered. "I'll feed her, and wash her, and sing her songs…"

What singing would do for a goat Gale didn't know, but he'd finally relented, bartering for nearly an hour in the sweltering heat to get the stupid thing for her.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you daddy!"

Despite her prickliness, the goat makes plenty of milk, and the cheese they make from it trades well.

Wren had begged Daisy to make the stupid thing a coat out of scraps of worn fabric from her old dresses, then gotten Sage and Miles to build it a little house when winter blew in.

"It's a goat," Briar had grumbled. "It's gonna eat that coat and it's too dumb to use a house."

"She's not dumb," Wren countered, petting her goat fondly and sighing. "She's smart, right Goat?"

Just as Briar predicted, the coat ended up eaten and Gale had yet to see the stupid thing get in its little 'house', but Wren was delighted with her siblings' efforts anyway, maintaining the goat has a reason for her actions and is 'smart'.

While Gale tends to agree with Briar about the animal's lack of intelligence, he doesn't argue it. Wren is happy, and for him that's all that matters.

Pulling out his keys, he pushes the door open and steps into the warmth.

It smells like stew brewing, spices and meat scenting the air, and he sighs at the thought of a good warm meal.

"Gale?"

Madge frowns at him from the entry to the kitchen, her nose wrinkled and forehead scrunched in worry.

"You're early. Did something happen?"

She grips the wooden spoon in her hands, probably already formulating the worst in her head, before Gale shakes his head.

"Equipment broke down and they got sick of paying us for sitting around," he tells her, kicking off his boots, shrugging his coat from his shoulders and hanging it on the hook by the door.

Madge sighs, her expression softening and lips easing into a smile.

"Well, that's not good, but I don't mind you being home early." She shrugs, her smile widening. "It's okay."

"Okay?" Gale grins, crossing to her and pulling her to him and earning a squeal of shock when she collides with his chest lightly. "When do the kids get out of school?"

Madge snorts, rolling her eyes.

"Is that all you ever think about?"

Pressing kisses along her neck, Gale chuckles. "We have five kids. Pretty much."

Laughing, Madge lets him hoist her up and carry her into the bedroom, kicking the door shut before tossing her on the bed.

#######

They only manage to make themselves presentable minutes before the front door flies open, cold wind and dead leaves blowing in along with Wren.

"Daddy!" She shouts, lunging at him and nearly taking him off his feet. "You're early!"

Leaning down, Gale presses a kiss into the tangles of her hair and laughs.

"Yeah, had some trouble with the equipment."

She nods, barely listening as she begins shuffling through her bag, then begins jabbering about her day, unconcerned with broken equipment or lost wages.

"I saw a cloud that looked like a turtle today," she announces, handing Gale a box of what appears to be broken pencils before dropping her bag to the ground. "And Daphne told me I have air in my head during recess. We all have air in our heads though, so I don't know what she was talking about..."

She continues to rattle on, jumping from subject to unrelated subject, when the door opens again and Miles and Daisy hurry in.

Gale looks up to greet them, expecting to have to explain why he's off work early for them as well, but his own question keeps theirs away.

"What happened?"

Daisy's eyes are pink, red-rimmed, swollen, and tear stains are clear on her flush cheeks.

Miles' normally grinning face is pulled in a scowl and he has an arm wrapped around Daisy's shoulder.

Despite being younger, he's already outgrown her, but even before he'd had his growth spurt, he'd taken on the role of protector for both she and Wren.

Briar and Sage take care of themselves, but Daisy isn't a fighter and Wren has a kind of sweet obliviousness about her. Neither one puts up much of a fight when other kids pick on them.

Not that Wren notices.

"Nothing," Daisy quickly answers, shooting Miles a look that plainly says to stay quiet, but Wren doesn't catch it.

"Daisy was fightin'," she answers simply, digging through her box of broken pencils. "I didn't like it."

"It wasn't a fight," Daisy corrects her.

"No, it wasn't," Miles adds darkly, dropping his bag and shooting the floor a filthy look.

"Well there was a lot of yellin'," Wren tells no one in particular. "And cryin'."

Gale instantly takes Daisy by the shoulders, inspecting her for injury, but he doesn't spot so much as a scratch. Other than a rubbed raw nose and swollen eyes, she seems physically fine.

"I'm fine dad, it was just a disagreement."

Miles makes a grunting noise, clearly not agreeing himself, but keeps quiet past that.

"It's fine," she adds quietly. "I'm gonna go wash my face."

Before she can make her get away, Madge emerges from the kitchen, where she'd run to keep the stew from burning, and sighs.

"Oh sweetie, what happened?"

Daisy forces a smile, one so reminiscent of the sad ones Madge wore so often when she was younger that Gale feels his stomach clench up.

"Nothing."

"She was in a fight," Gale tells her.

Madge takes a deep breath, her eyes closing for a moment before giving a sad smile of her own.

This is hardly the first time one or more of their kids has come home from a fight. Normally it's Briar, but Daisy has had her fair share of battles.

Girls are easier targets, and nastier fighters, Gale's learned.

The boys both out shot their classmates years ago, making all them less desirable marks for nasty remarks about Madge, and Wren is more interested in clouds and oddly shaped rocks than what people are saying. Briar and Daisy are the ones taking the brunt of the insults.

"Who was it this time?" Madge finally asks, brushing a wayward strand of Daisy's blonde hair from her face and frowning.

"No on-"

"It was Briar."

Gale blinks, frowns, then looks down at Wren, now lining her pencils up by size.

"Briar?" Madge looks to Gale, confusion etched on her face, then to Daisy. "You were fighting with Briar?"

"No!"

"Yes!" Miles cuts in, arms crossed over his chest as he grinds his teeth. "Briar was yelling at her when I came out of the school!"

"She wasn't!" Daisy shouts, shaking her head, tears welling in her eyes. "We were just having-we were just talking!"

"She was this close to your face," Miles hisses, pinching his fingers together, approximating an inch.

Looking betrayed, Daisy bites her lower lip before muttering that she wants to wash her face and rushing out of the living room.

Madge gives Gale a little look, letting him know she'll check on their daughter, before following her out of the room.

Sighing, Gale looks to Miles, still grinding his teeth and glaring.

"What were they fighting about?"

For a second Gale doesn't think he's heard him and he starts to repeat himself, but then Miles sighs.

"I don't know." He shakes his head, running his hands through his hair and standing it on end. "I just came out and Briar was having a fit. They were both crying and even Wren was upset. Daisy wouldn't tell me what it was about."

Nodding, Gale rubs the back of his neck, feeling the muscles tightening already.

"Where'd Bri go?"

Miles shrugs. "I dunno. I told her to stop yelling, calm down, and she told me to stay out of it, so I got between her and Day and told her no. Then she huffed and left."

Patting Miles on the back, he gives him a smile. They both know Briar is out in the woods somewhere, blowing off steam. It's what Gale would've done, and Briar is nothing if not Gale's daughter.

"Go get on your homework," Gale tells him, jerking his head toward the kitchen.

Reluctantly, Miles snatches up his bag and heads into the kitchen.

Groaning, Gale drops onto the couch, wondering just what kind of teenage bullshit caused his kids to meltdown, when he feels something soft and warm plop beside him.

Wren looks up at him, her big blue eyes wide as she chews her lip and grips one of her broken pencils in her hands.

"They were fighting because of me," she whispers, eyes dropping to her lap in guilt.

Confused, Gale tips her chin up and frowns. "What about you were they fighting about?"

She's going to have it wrong, Gale knows it. Wren inherited Madge's mom's strange way of seeing the world, but there's always a grain of truth in her sideways interpretations. He just has to find it.

"I told Bri about that boy," she explains, her little voice so soft Gale almost doesn't hear it. "He was flirtin' with Day and I told Bri and she got mad."

"A boy?" That didn't sound like Briar. Or Daisy for that matter.

"I think Briar likes him, but he likes Daisy," Wren adds. "And she was yelling at Daisy because she thinks she was flirtin' back, but she wasn't, and Bri wouldn't listen to me when I told her."

It's almost funny. His daughter fighting about some stupid boy, but Gale can't find it in himself to laugh.

"I shouldn't'a told, but that boy is too big for Daisy and I just wanted Bri to keep him away." She makes a face. "I was gonna tell Sage, but he was with Abilene and Miles wasn't out yet…"

She looks painfully close to tears, so Gale pulls her into a hug and presses a kiss into her hair.

"You didn't do anything wrong. You were just protecting your sister."

"But Bri yelled…"

"That's not your fault," he reassures her.

"I always mess up," she whispers, biting her lip. "I don't know what to do and I mess up and now Briar and Daisy are mad at each other."

Pressing another kiss into her hair, Gale sighs.

"No, gorgeous, you didn't mess up. Briar is upset but not at you, and Daisy isn't either, and neither am I, okay?"

He feels her head nod in his side and he pulls her closer, wishing all his daughters were as easy to comfort as her.

#######

They wait until Sage comes home, a few hours later, before Gale trudges into the woods to find Briar.

"I'll come with you," he told Gale, pulling his coat back on.

"No, you have homework," Gale reminds him.

Besides, Gale and Madge had decided it was best he talk to Briar before they come home, get to the bottom of their daughters' fight.

"Daisy wouldn't say a word," Madge told him, pressing her fingers to her eyes. "Just kept telling me it was nothing."

Sage had even tried, but she'd remained tight lipped.

"But I don't see her and Bri arguing over a boy," he added. "I mean, it'd be like me and Miles fighting over a girl. There's just too much distance between our ages."

Wren's words 'that boy is too big for Daisy' echoed in Gale's head at that, and he nodded grimly.

So Gale bundled up and headed out.

It doesn't take him long to find Briar.

She's always been fond of the lake, even when it's too cold to fish.

For several minutes Gale waits by one of the trees closest to the water's edge, watching her as she snaps twigs and tosses them into the frigid water.

Her hair has a few leaves in it, probably caught in it as she ran through the woods, and he can see mud splattered on her school shoes, probably all over her uniform too. Madge will have her laundering skill put to the test once again by their oldest daughter.

Hearing her sniffle, Gale sighs and silently pads over to where she's seated, on a half rotted downed tree.

"Heard you had a fight with your sister," he finally says.

She laughs, a little wet sounding.

"Wasn't much of a fight," she mumbles, wiping her nose on her sleeve.

"Yeah," Gale mutters as he drops down beside her. "That's what Miles said."

A minute passes, then another, before she sighs.

"I just yelled at her." She takes a breath. "I shouldn't'a yelled at her."

Gale just nods his agreement but stays silent. He'd been the oldest of four and he can appreciate how little brothers and sisters worm their way under your skin, push you too far. Granted, he can't imagine Daisy needling Briar the way Rory and occasionally Vick had him, but still, he supposes anything is possible.

"What was it about?" He asks, wanting her to tell him herself. Hoping there's more to it than a boy.

Shrugging, Briar picks up another stick and snaps it in half.

"Rowan was talking to her," she begins flatly. "I didn't think anything about it because she's just a kid, but then Wren, she started pestering me, telling me I needed to go help Daisy because that big boy was flirting with her and trying to look down her shirt."

She tosses half the stick and cracks the remainder, glaring at it.

"So I went over, and Daisy was smiling and laughing. I mean, it was that weird laugh she does when she's nervous, but I don't think Rowan could tell that, so I told him we needed to go and grabbed her by the shoulder and dragged her away. And once we were away, I just…"

She snaps the twig and drops it.

"If she didn't laugh and smile, act like she's enjoying it when she isn't-he's too old for her anyways."

Frowning, Gale nods and tries to piece together Briar and Wren's versions of events. Briar doesn't sound jealous, mostly angry that Daisy didn't get herself away from the boy, but he waits, knowing there's more.

"He's not the only one looking at her," she finally says. "Lots of guys have started noticing her." Her voice drops in a poor imitation of a man. "'Your sister's gotten pretty', 'We know where all your momma's good looks went', 'Are you sure you're related to Daisy?'"

Gale's heart drops to his stomach as Briar gets up, kicks a stone into the water.

"Just because she's blonde and busty-and she's from the Seam so they think-and then all that crap they say about mom…" She glares out at the lake. "They don't even look at me because I'm just plain, and I don't have that little voice like she and mom do, or put up with their crap, and it just isn't fair!"

Lifting his cap, Gale scratches his head, trying to figure out just what she's trying to say.

She doesn't explain though, just stays standing, silently cursing everything with her stormy glare.

"So...you're mad because Daisy didn't tell this Rowan to go to hell or because he was talking to her at all, because I'm not real clear on it," he finally prompts her.

Not looking back, she makes a defeated noise, presses her hands to her eyes before muttering, "Both?"

She turns back, eyes shining in the dim sunlight.

"I don't know. I know it isn't her fault. She's like mom, she hasn't got a mean bone in her body. Goddamn I wish she did though, dad! If she did guys wouldn't look at her like she's-like a few nice words will have her at the slag heap. If she did maybe they wouldn't think she's perfect and they'd see I'm not half as bad as they think."

Pushing himself up, Gale reaches out and pulls her to him, wrapping his arms around her and pressing a kiss to her temple.

"You aren't bad, sweetpea, you're my tough girl."

A choked laugh catches in her throat.

"Yeah, and Daisy's your little cupcake." Her cheek rests against his shoulder and tears begin soaking his coat. "None of the guys like 'tough girls', they want cupcakes like Daisy."

Gale almost reminds her that Daisy is still a kid, even if her body had decided it's done with childhood, but keeps it to himself. He'd been hell with girls when he'd been only a little older than Daisy, even if he doesn't like to think about those times, for more than one reason.

Instead, he kisses her hair again. "Guys don't know what they want."

"They want sweet little daisies," she counters, pulling back and wiping her face on the back of her hand. "Even you did."

For a minute Gale just stares at her, unsure what he's supposed to say to that.

He had chosen a daisy, but she hadn't been his first choice. He wishes she had been, but she hadn't, and he isn't sure if that makes it better or worse.

"Have I ever told you about Katniss?"

Briar's nose wrinkles up as she sniffles, a few more tears leaking out the corners of her eyes as she shakes her head. "Everdeen? The Victor?"

He never has talked about Katniss, he's well aware of that. In fact, he'd be shocked if any of his kids even know he'd ever been friends with one half of District Twelve's very own Star-Crossed Lovers.

Pulling Briar down, back onto the downed tree, Gale takes a deep breath and decides to start at the beginning.

"My dad and Katniss' were both killed in the mines on the same day…"

#######

"So you were in love with Katniss Everdeen?"

"I thought I was," he laughs at the disgusted expression on her face. "But...it was more…I just thought, we're compatible, we're survivors, we belong together."

She groans. "That's weird. She's so...flat. She's got the personality of a dead fish, even Mr. Abernathy says so. Mom is so much more…"

Nodding, Gale chuckles. "Your mom is as different from Katniss as day is from night." He takes her hand and gives it a squeeze. "But I cared about her a lot."

Squeezing back, Briar grins. "So the point of all that is that you were an idiot guy too?"

Rolling his eyes, Gale nods. "Yeah, basically."

A minute passes and her smile fades as she turns back toward the water.

"It all comes down to the same thing though, doesn't it?" She sighs. "You didn't end up with the Girl on Fire."

"The point is she didn't end up with me." He reaches out and takes her chin, turns it back to him. "She ended up with her own softie from town, and we were both better for it. Like doesn't always need like."

You don't always get what you want, but that isn't a bad thing. Sometimes it's for the best if you don't. He'd certainly come out the better for losing to Peeta Mellark.

Nodding, Briar forces a smile before looking back to the lake.

"It could though."

Gale sighs. "Yeah, it could." He makes a face. "But any guy who tries to move on a kid just because she developed a little faster…he's not for you, and I'll thank you to keep his creepy ass away from your sister."

Briar snorts.

"I know, and I will." Her smile softens. "I guess I'm gonna have to put some meanness in Daisy before I graduate, huh?"

Nodding, Gale laughs. "Might help."

Pulling her into a hug, Gale kisses her hair again, pulls a leaf from it, and then steers her back toward the District.

"Your Mom is gonna be having kittens if we don't get back before sundown."

They walk without speaking until they reach the fence and are safely on the right side, then Briar takes a long breath.

"I should apologize to Daisy."

Gale nods. "You should, and Wren."

She groans.

"She's blaming herself for you two fighting."

Briar huffs.

"Well-I know." She shakes her head in frustration.

"She thinks you have crush on this Rowdy guy."

"Rowan," she corrects him, rubbing her nose. "He's just a friend. Or he was. If he's gonna be creeping on little girls I don't know."

Gale nudges her with his shoulder. "So no crush? Wren is usually pretty good about these things."

She'd pegged Sage's crush on the Mellark girl, Abilene, years ago, before her brother even realized why he was so eager to visit the bakery on Sundays. Then there was Rory and Chaparral, she'd seen that when she was only a toddler.

"I think her radar is off," Briar quickly mutters. "She told me Mr. Abernathy and Nona flirt."

Chuckling, Gale wraps an arm around Briar's shoulder. Wren is bound to be wrong sometimes.

#######

"I always thought it'd be Miles fighting with Sage about girls, not any of the girls about some boy," Madge tells him, once evening has settled and all the kids are in bed.

Briar had apologized, and Daisy accepted, though Gale knew they'd talk more about their one sided argument later before they went to sleep. There was bound to be more tension they needed to give voice to, but some things are easier said not under parental scrutiny.

It doesn't matter to Gale. He remembers plenty of long nights spent talking to Rory and Vick after official apologies were given for his mom. As long as they talk and fix whatever is broken between them, he doesn't care when the girls talk or if he's given the details.

Not that he won't try to bribe it out of Wren anyways.

"I can't believe a boy that age was even looking at Daisy," Madge adds, her nose wrinkling up in thought. "She's fourteen."

"Thirteen," Gale grunts, reminding her. "Her birthday isn't for more than a month."

She's a kid.

He just wishes her body realized that.

Briar had to be pulled by puberty an arm and a leg at a time, fighting it every step of the way. She'd reminded Gale of Posy, who'd painfully entered womanhood against her will, and Gale had been all too happy about that.

He'd hoped Daisy's growing up would've been just as slow, if a little less awkward.

Instead, she'd taken after Madge, and while Gale had appreciated her blossoming into a gorgeous woman overnight, he isn't quite as happy about it where his daughter is concerned.

"Not that a pervy guy is going to care," he adds irritably. "They just see...what they see."

Making a face, Madge climbs into the bed and settles beside him, her head pillowed on his chest, and sighs.

"I wish I knew what to tell them both," she whispers.

"Me too."

But there's no easy answer.

They are who they are, and as far as he's concerned they're both perfect, even if they don't see it that way. Even if the idiots at their school don't see it.

Pulling her closer, Gale presses a kiss to her temple.

"They'll get through it. They love each other." Even if they're as different as night and day.

"I hope so." He feels Madge shift. "I never had a sister to be mad at, or a brother. I feel so useless."

Chuckling, Gale shakes his head.

"I had siblings and I still feel useless." He glances down at her though the dark. "It doesn't make a difference."

There's no one way to deal with the jealousies that crop up, or the hurt feelings. They can only do their best and hope they're doing the right thing.

Madge snorts. "That's reassuring."

"It's honest." If not helpful.

She sighs but doesn't say anything more, even though Gale can feel the worry floating around her, waiting to be given voice.

Instead, she drifts off to sleep, nestling closer to Gale and pulling the blankets over her shoulders to hold off the cold.

Closing his eyes, Gale presses his cheek to Madge's sweet smelling hair and tries to think of anything but the rift some idiot boy had caused between his girls and wondering if he'd ever been that much of a jerk.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I'm just playing with Suzanne Collins' characters and her world. They're hers. Not mine. Any lines from the books are hers too.

Madge gently places a wedge of goat cheese in the second lunch pail, lodged between a small satchel of strawberries and a chunk of bread Abilene had brought by the evening before.

She's a sweet girl, quiet and shy, but she loves Sage to pieces, Madge can see that.

"I baked it myself," she'd told Madge when she'd come to their door, eyes wide at her own bravery in venturing into the Seam alone for the first time. "I wanted to do something nice for Sage's first day at the mines. It's his favorite."

The she and Sage had sat out on the back porch for nearly an hour after that, talking mostly, though Miles and Wren had spied on the pair and made sure Gale and Madge knew there was plenty of kissing going on as well.

"Will you stop watching them?" Gale grumbled as he mended his game bag.

Madge almost laughed at that, wondering if Gale was actually annoyed on Sage's behalf or just remembering his own youth with nosy siblings spying on him.

Briar snorted, "He can't. He's trying to get pointers."

Miles rolled his eyes. "Not in that lighting. All I can see is shadows."

Wren nodded her agreement. "And hear smacking."

Grimacing, Daisy shook her head and took the bag from Gale, deciding to distract herself from all the talk of kissing by patching his bag up for him.

When Sage came back in his face had been a little darker and he'd gone straight to bed, refusing to indulge Miles and Wren's teasing questions about how his kissing had been.

It had been nice, listening to the kids laughing and playfully badgering one another, acting like the next morning was just like any other. Acting like it wasn't the day Madge had dreaded since she'd first heard Sage's little cry.

He was headed for the mines.

Gale had never understood how she'd been able to focus all her fears on the mines when the Reapings had always been his biggest concern.

"They could just," he snapped his fingers, "and one of them could be gone."

Being Reaped, though, was only a possibility. There was a one in thousands of a chance it would be one of their children's names plucked from the bowl.

Reaping, terrifying as they were, could be avoided, but the mines, the mines were inevitable.

Not even Madge's father could keep him from his fate, despite his best efforts.

"There's no way around it, Pearl, I'm sorry," he told her. "I've been trying to find a way out for him since he was a baby."

But the Capitol is nothing if not thorough. Men from the Seam are expendable, and even if he is the mayor's grandson, Sage is just one more warm body to be used up and tossed away.

Not that anyone cares to know that. The entire District still believes Madge and her children are privileged above them, despite all the evidence to the contrary.

"Mom?"

Turning, Madge shakes off the anger at the unfairness of it all and finds Briar and Daisy standing in the entry to the kitchen, both wearing grim expressions on their faces.

"We got up early, you know, to see Sage off," Briar tells her, dropping into her seat at the kitchen table and drumming her fingers before pulling her hand back and sitting quietly.

It'll be her first day at work too, though her job will be less dangerous. At least that's how it'll seem to those on the outside.

The Justice Building will hardly be a dream come true, especially for a girl like Briar, but she won't be at risk for bodily harm. There's plenty more to be afraid of at a Capitol run building, Madge knows that, but Gale was relieved when Madge's father had found her the job.

"I don't want her at the mines. Not at the payroll offices or in the uniform department...all those men looking at her…" He'd given her a guilty glance. "She's a pretty little girl and I don't want them getting ideas or making her uncomfortable."

"She'd punch them before they could get a hand on her, you know that right?"

Briar was Gale's daughter through and through, and Madge is grateful for that.

Her prickly nature might not endear her to everyone, particularly boys, much to Briar's own annoyance, but it'll keep her safe.

No one will take advantage of her, get her in trouble. Even if it had turned out okay in the end for Madge and Gale, they were more the exception than the rule.

Daisy, on the other hand…

Daisy is the one they need to lose sleep over someone hurting.

Gale chuckled, clearly enjoying the thought of Briar decking someone. "Yeah." Then his expression had dimmed. "Still…I'd rather have her surrounded by half blind old women filing papers than dirty men."

While she understands his concern, the thought of Briar in a building with ears and eyes in the walls and ceilings all belonging to people who'd as soon see them die as toss them table scraps, doesn't set well with Madge.

There's nowhere that's truly safe though.

They just have to take what little security they can get their hands on and hope for the best.

Besides, Madge's father has promised to have Briar mostly being his secretary. She'll be close to her grandfather, a man who knows how to play the game, and with any luck, he'll teach Briar enough of it to keep her from trouble. Just like he had Madge.

She'll be far safer than Sage could ever hope to be.

Forcing a smile, Madge takes the pair of lunch pails and places them on the table before sitting across from Briar.

"Did you put in the cheese?" Daisy asks, her voice just above a whisper as she settles into the seat next to Briar.

Nodding, Madge tries to keep her smile bright as Gale comes through the entry.

He's looking grayer the past few months, silvery wisps at his temples and dusting through his thick hair. Not even his stubble has managed to avoid the stress building inside Gale as the day Sage and Briar finally start their jobs approached.

"I think I finally understand why the mines scared you more than the Reapings," he'd confessed, just days before, when he'd arrived home with a thick layer of coal dust hanging over him. "Equipment breaking down, supports needing replaced…we're one failure away from a cave in."

Madge's insides rolled at the thought.

Gale rarely has to go into the mines since being made a supervisor, but Rory and Vick aren't so lucky.

And now her baby is going to be down in one of those holes too.

"I don't want Sage in the mines," he finally sighed, rubbing at his neck. "Not for one second."

Madge dropped beside him on the little bench by the door, took his hand and pressed a kiss to it.

"I know. I don't either."

Squeezing her hand, Gale grimaced, took a long breath.

"Abernathy have any news?"

Forcing a weak smile, Madge shook her head.

"No."

It was a sign of just how desperate Gale was not to have their son in the mines, that he was encouraging Madge to associate with 'that filthy drunk' as a means to save Sage.

"He-he said his friend has him at the top of the list, but there's just no openings."

Months ago Mr. Abernathy had come to Madge, before Gale and the kids were home for the day, and told about a possibility for a different, safer future for Sage.

"I love that boy as much as I love you, you know that Pearl?"

Nodding, Madge waited, not really understanding what he was working towards, rubbing his rough hand over his face and wincing.

"Well I-I went to school with the foreman for the engineering corps, and he's a bit of a dick, but I think I can talk him into giving Sage a chance. If you want me to try anyways."

He'd looked worried, almost as if he expected her to throw his offer back in his face, but Madge had only burst into tears.

"Mr. Abernathy-I-do you really think he could have a chance?"

It was more than she could ever hope for. She had told Sage to apply for the corps, of course, but the Capitol had cut the budgets of nearly all the mining services the past few years. They hadn't taken a new member in at least four years.

"Boy that smart? They'd be fools to waste him in those pits," he chuckled, wiping tears from her cheeks and pulling her into a hug, pressing a kiss to her hair.

"Thank you," she'd sighed, squeezing him tight and inhaling the scent of cigarette smoke and faded cologne from his clothes.

"Don't thank me yet, sweetheart." He'd shifted, sighing. "Wish I could do more than bribe Amos Lane. Danny-boy would if he could."

There was so much self-loathing in his voice, comparing what he can do to what Madge's father would've or could've done if he had the option, that Madge scowled, shook her head.

"But dad can't," she'd pulled back, given him a stern look she so often used with the children. "You can help, and you are."

And he had tried, but there were simply no open positions, at least not until someone died.

"Aren't some of those guys old?" Gale asked, glaring out at the back yard as they'd met with Mr. Abernathy to hear the outcome of his meeting with Mr. Lane. He'd given Mr. Abernathy a little shrug. "Any of them close to kicking the bucket? Any of them need a little nudge?"

"Gale!"

Mr. Abernathy looked a little too thoughtful. "Some of them, yeah-"

"Mr. Abernathy!" Madge fixed him in a glare. "You are not killing anyone."

"I wouldn't do it myself, sweethea-"

"No."

She had to draw a line somewhere, and that line was apparently at murder. Or at least something close to it.

Sage would never forgive them for it.

They had purposefully not told him about Mr. Abernathy's attempts to give him an advantage. Sage had inherited Madge's sense of fair play, and he wouldn't have appreciated their attempts to subvert the system, even to save his life.

Madge understands her son's desire to be level with everyone else. She'd been the same way most of her life. When it comes to her children though, she's found she's a little more lax about unfair advantages.

Not that it had come to anything. All the positions within the engineering corps have stayed filled, with not so much as a case of the sniffles threatening any of them.

It disgusts her that she wakes each morning hoping to hear of one the men's deaths. It makes her an awful person, even if Gale promises her it doesn't.

Gale plops into the seat beside Daisy and grimaces before running a hand through his hair.

"Didn't wake Wren?"

Daisy shakes her head, her lips forcing into a smile. "We didn't want to upset her."

"Plus she sleeps like a rock," Briar adds, popping her neck and slumping in her chair. "We couldn't'a pried her outta bed if we tried."

Chuckling, Gale nods his agreement, probably remembering past attempts at waking his youngest. Wren simply woke when she woke, which, thankfully, was before school started.

It was not, however, when Gale left for the mines.

A silent moment passes as they sit around the table, no one eager to start a conversation, when someone clears their throat from the entry.

Madge's heart stops dead in her chest.

Sage is dressed in his new mining uniform, his hair combed down, face somber as his gray eyes scan the room.

He looks so much like Gale that it's almost like looking into a rip into the past. Sage could be Gale twenty years ago, heading to his first day in the mines. It nearly breaks her heart, imagining the changes the mines will inflict on him, the ways they will try to break her baby.

She's seconds from tears when Sage gives her one of his crooked smiles.

"Ready?" he finally asks, eyes cutting to Gale.

If Gale's unnatural pallor, his ill expression, are any indication, then no, he isn't ready, and Madge doubts he ever will be.

"Yeah," he grunts, though Madge doesn't think he's ever sounded less ready in his life.

Getting up, he follows Sage into the living room, the girls trailing after them, with Madge snatching up the lunch pails at the end and trying to blink back the tears threatening to fall.

Madge clings to the pails like they're lifelines, watching as Sage and Gale pull on their coats, lace up their boots, pick up their hats, wishing all the while they were only going out to the woods.

She almost laughs. The wilds outside the fence are safer than the mines. She's never thought of it that way before…

"I'll go out to the woods after-when I get off," Briar tells them, her eyes dropping guiltily. She'll be off work hours before either of them.

Gale gives her an absent little nod before glancing at the clock. It's time to go or they'll be late.

Handing Gale his pail, Madge gives him a smile before turning to Sage and holding his lunch out to him.

"Don't worry mom," he tells her, pulling her into a hug. "I'll be okay. I'll be with dad."

He'll be with Gale. There's nowhere safer than with Gale.

Pulling back, Madge sniffs, hopes the tears don't start sliding down her face as she pops on her toes and presses a kiss to Sage's rough cheek.

"I know, baby, I know."

He kisses her cheek, then pulls both Briar and Daisy into hugs before taking a deep breath.

Before Gale can open the door, something crashes in the short hallway, and half a second later, Miles tumbles in, followed by a doughy eyed Wren.

"Oh good, you're still here," Miles sighs, nearly tripping over his bare feet as he stumbles to Sage. He grins broadly. "Didn't want you to head out to your first day without seeing my brilliant smile first."

Sage rolls his eyes and ruffles Miles' already messy hair before glancing down at Wren.

"And I got a present for you," Wren tells him through a yawn, reaching into her nightgown pocket and producing a rock. "It looks like a clover leaf."

Taking the lumpy rock from her, Sage squints, clearly doesn't see anything resembling a clover, then smiles.

"Yeah," he agrees, obviously lying. "Just like a clover."

She smiles sleepily and then flings her arms around him.

"Have a good day, Sage."

She releases him and goes to Gale, giving him hug as well, before drifting to the couch and flopping down.

"I'm going back to sleep."

It's more than Madge expected of her, but then Wren is constantly surprising her, so Madge just smiles as Wren falls back to sleep while Gale opens the door.

The early morning air is brisk as it finds its way into the house.

Madge grabs Gale, holds him tight for a moment before inching up and pressing a quick kiss to his rough lips.

"Keep him safe."

With a grim nod, Gale sighs, letting his forehead rest against hers for a breath.

"I will."

Blinking tears back, Madge turns to Sage and smiles as brightly as she can as she reaches out and smoothed the front of his uniform, memorizing ever crease and wrinkle before focusing on his face. She studies him for a long moment, wanting to commit every bit of him to memory just as he is now, before the Capitol starts to break his spirit.

"Be careful."

"I will."

"Make sure you eat all your lunch," she warns him, her voice almost breaking. "You'll need the energy."

It's a stupid thing to say, but it's something solid. She can't keep him from the mines but she can keep him fed. She's still his mother.

"I will." He hugs her again, gives her another kiss. "It'll be okay."

That's a lie, but he makes it sound like such a truth.

He follows Gale down the steps, stopping when he hears Miles call out.

"Save some coal for me," he tries to joke, rubbing his neck. "Just a few years, right?"

Madge's insides turn at the thought of her silly Miles trapped with his brother and father, digging coal until he dies.

He's more frightened of the mines than he'll ever say. He'll only ever make jokes, but Madge feels the anxiety rolling off him.

Sage can bury his fear for his siblings' sake, but it's not a skill Miles has ever honed.

Giving him a crooked smile, Sage nods. He understands his brother and sisters almost better than Madge or Gale.

"I'll try."

With that, he follows Gale out into the dewy morning, his pail and his mining helmet gently banging against his leg, leaving Madge with an empty feeling at her center and tears finally sliding down her cheeks.

#######

Sage doesn't speak the entire walk up to the main road.

It isn't unusual, he's never been talkative, but there's a heaviness to the silence that's unnatural.

He's terrified, even if he won't say it.

Gale can see it though. Sage is his son, even if he's more Madge's in personality.

"You're gonna be in Rory's crew," he tells him, finally breaking the silence. "Him and Vick will keep an eye on you."

Rory may be a pain in the ass, but he loves his nephew, he'll keep him safe. It was nothing short of a miracle a spot had opened up in time for Gale to assign him to the crew.

If only a spot had opened up on the engineering corps instead.

He shakes his head, trying to force away the bitterness building in his mind.

"I'll check on you as much as I can-"

"You don't have to," Sage cuts him off, one of Madge's sad little smiles hanging on his lips. "I'll be okay. You don't need to go down there anymore than you have to."

He knows Gale hates going into the dark, closed space of the mines. It had been a blessing he'd made supervisor, cutting his time down there by half. He'll gladly brave it though, for his son.

"With all you green recruits?" Gale grins, trying to sound half as casual as Miles always manages. "Have to. Need to make sure none of you wash out."

It's a flimsy lie, and Sage is too bright to fall for it. There's no option of washing out, giving up. The Capitol won't allow it.

Still, he lets his dad tell him little white lies. It makes Gale feel better to try to comfort him, and Sage has too much of his mom's kindness in him to tell him he knows there's no truth in the words.

Sad smile still fixed on his face, Sage just nods and fixes his gaze ahead of him. Toward the mines.

No one joins up with them, like they normally do. None of the men feel much like socializing on the first few days when the new men, boys, their sons and grandsons, are freshly being sent to the mines. There's much less laughter on those days, as they watch the light die in those kids' eyes, as they watch them settle into the mines that will be their graves.

After a few minutes, the gates to the yard come into view and when they cross from the gravel road to the broken concrete of the mines, and Gale hears his name coming from one of the tin buildings used as a locker area.

Rory's hair is sticking out at wild angles from under his helmet but his uniform is a little more pressed than normal. The words 'crew chief' are more visible on his chest than they have been in months. Since the last fall, to be exact.

Chaparral had clearly freshened it up, anticipating the new miners need to identify their leader in the dimness of the mines. Just like all the years past, since Rory had gotten the promotion.

Vick is at his side, just like he's been since they were little, though he's several inches taller than Rory now, despite his slouch.

He's been offered a promotion himself, a few times actually, but his desire to stay with Rory beat out any ambitions he might've harbored. They're best friends to the very end.

Gale hates to admit it, even if it's just to himself, but he's always been a little jealous of their friendship. He loves his brothers, and they love him, he knows that, but he'd been forced to be a parent to them more than a brother for much of their lives.

That, more than the distance between their ages, has always kept them from being as close with him as with each other.

They come to a stop within arm's reach of Gale and Sage, force smiles, before Rory chuckles.

"Ready?"

Sage shrugs. "As I'll ever be."

Rory laughs, a big booming laugh, so much like Gale remembers his dad's being that his breath catches in his chest, before reaching out and musing Sage's hair.

"Ah, never fear, little nephew, I'll keep you safe. Anything happens to you and Madge'll have Haymitch rip my balls off and feed them to me."

A real smile forms on Sage's face as he rolls his eyes.

"Mr. Abernathy'd make you feed yourself."

Laughing harder, Rory grabs Sage around the neck and half drags him toward the tin building to introduce him to the other men on the crew, all milling around in the haze near the elevators.

Vick keeps quiet for a moment, watching them go, before looking to Gale and sighing.

"I'm counting the days until Boone has to come here with me," he finally says, his voice just barely carrying over the dull hum of men talking and equipment warming up.

"I think Miles is too," Gale tells him, running a hand over his face. "I thought the Reapings were the worst, you know? But this...this is..."

There was a chance of getting out of the Reapings, not being picked. A bigger chance of not being picked than there was of being chosen.

There's no being passed over for the mines.

Sage will live out his days here, then Miles will have the silliness crushed out of him, and finally Vick's boy, poor little Boone, will get tossed in alongside his cousins.

It's an impossibility, getting out of the mines.

"This is torture," Vick finally sighs.

Torture is a pretty good description for it, Gale silently agrees.

He starts to say something, make an empty promise or offer cold comfort, but his voice catches when the horn blows signaling the start of the day, beckoning them to the elevators.

Exchanging one last hopeless glance, Gale pats Vick on the shoulder.

"Watch out for him, will you?"

Vick nods. "Like he was my own."

#######

"He's making it," Rory tells Gale, when they emerge for their all too short lunch, while Sage and Vick are washing as much coal and dirt from their hands as they can. "Better than most."

It's little comfort to Gale, but it's something.

Silently, he curses Abernathy, wishing he'd done more for Sage.

The dirty old drunkard loves Madge and the kids, and he'd given them a taste of hope because of it.

"He's going to try," Madge had whispered, after telling Gale what Abernathy was planning, bribing or begging his old school mate to give Sage a place in the engineering corps.

Gale hadn't questioned it. He'd encouraged it. This was his boy's life and he'd even take Abernathy's help to save it.

For the longest time he'd resented District Twelve's oldest and least likeable Victor.

Abernathy had too much free time, and spent an alarming amount of it with Madge.

"He's helping," Madge explained, shaking her head at what she clearly saw as irrational thinking. "He brings my mom out and plays with the kids. He wouldn't hurt me."

Somewhere in his mind, Gale knew Abernathy would die before he hurt Madge or the kids, but his presence still made him uneasy.

For a long time he'd thought maybe he was afraid the asshole had a crush on Madge and was using Gale's time at work to butter her up, steal her away.

Then he'd come home one evening and found Briar and Sage playing in the backyard seemingly alone.

He'd watched for a moment, wondering if he'd ever been so carefree, before Abernathy stepped out from the shadows of the house, laughing at them.

They pulled him into their nonsense, giggled and played, until Madge called for them from the porch to come clean up before Gale got home.

Abernathy had pressed kisses to both kids' heads, ruffled their hair, then sent them scrambling in, before he ascended the steps himself and saying something to Madge.

Then, just as he'd kissed Sage and Briar, he hugged Madge and pressed a kiss to her hair, and it finally clicked with Gale.

Madge wasn't a pretty woman to Abernathy. She was still very much a little girl. He talked to her, treated her, a lot like Gale's mom treated him.

The more he paid attention, the more clear it became that Abernathy saw Madge as a surrogate for all the kids he'd never had, never would. It was almost enough to make Gale feel sorry for the asshole. Almost.

He still felt the sting of jealousy when it was Abernathy who got to spend the last few hours of daylight playing with his kids while Gale was trapped in the mines. Even if he knew the fondness Abernathy carried for both Gale's wife and children might be all that could keep them from starving or freezing if Gale were killed.

He'd hoped that love would save Sage.

Abernathy had done all he could, though, for all the good it did. Gale still wishes there were more.

"He isn't killing anyone," Madge scolded both Gale and the drunk, when they'd discussed the only way to get a position opened for Sage.

The option had only been a fleeting thought. Gale knew she was right. They couldn't let Haymitch Abernathy put someone in the ground, even if it was for their son. Sage would never look at them again, he had too much moral fiber for it.

"He'll choke on his morals," Abernathy grumbled. "I can live with him hating me if it means he does live."

After a little thought though, Gale realized he couldn't, and he still isn't sure if that makes Abernathy the better man or not.

"I never wanted this for him," Gale says to no one, not even realizing he's spoken until Rory grunts an acknowledgment.

"No one does," he finally mutters. Grimacing, he shakes his head. "No stopping it though."

Gale nods, bites into his bread, not even tasting it.

"It's why I'm not having any," he adds. "I-I couldn't-to love someone that much and know what's coming. I couldn't do it."

"You think it's stupid?" Gale asks, not angry, just tired.

"I think it's brave," he answers simply. "I'm a coward. But at least I found me another coward to finish this life with, right?"

Snorting, Gale shakes his head. "I dare you to let Chaparral hear you call her a coward."

Rory grins. "Not a chance. I'm a smart coward."

Gale smiles and wonders if his children will be bravely stupid like him and Madge, or cowardly smart like Rory.

He wishes he knew which is the better option.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: This will probably be the last update to this story. I'm planning on starting a new story in this timeline, after I figure out how I want to handle it. I can't decide if I want to do a linear story, plot and all, or a mish-mash story like most of my others, jumping around in time to look at the family's life, into the kids heads, maybe even giving Madge and Gale grandkids. I'm leaning toward the mish-mash honestly, mostly because I can't think of a good plot and it gives me a lot more room to play. Anyways, thanks to those that have reviewed, you keep me writing, for better or worse.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I'm just playing with Suzanne Collins' characters and her world. They're hers. Not mine. Any lines from the books are hers too.
> 
> AN: I almost didn't add this chapter here, but this is one of my favorite stories I've written and I had a lot of plans for it originally and I hate the thought of existing anywhere incomplete. So here it is.

Gale watches as Madge gently sways, her humming dim against the wailing of the ice storm raging outside.

Daisy is still limp in her arms, cheeks scarlet and purple shadows under her eyes, worse than she'd been when Gale had left that morning.

A sickness had made the rounds in the Seam the past few weeks. The bitter cold coupled with frequent snow and ice storms had already cemented this winter as one of the deadliest in District Twelve's history.

Every morning, as Gale battles against the icy winds to the mines, he spots the most recent victims of the cold, some wrapped in sheets if they can be spared, others simply set out with as much dignity as the family can manage.

The dead, with their sickness, stiff bodies, and sadness, have no place among the living.

So far, Gale feels they've been lucky. Their home isn't as drafty or leaky as most houses in the Seam and Gale's hunting gives them all extra reserves. Sage and Briar have come down with the sniffles, but beyond that they've been well.

Daisy hasn't been so lucky.

Her sniffles had lingered, never really going away, and the last few days it's slowly turned into a wet cough.

This morning, when Gale had gone to kiss her goodbye, she'd felt warm, and he'd warned Madge.

"I'll try to get to my parents and see if I can get some medicine for her."

He'd shaken his head.

"Don't be crazy. You'll freeze out there," he'd warned her, eyes resting on her belly, hidden under layers of clothing.

She wasn't due for at least another month, but with the stress of Daisy's illness, the endless snow storms with their winds and cold, and the dwindling food supply, which will only get lower if the storms don't let up enough for Gale to go hunting, that awful midwife has warned them she might go into labor too early.

Trundling through the knee deep snow and blistering winds was definitely not a good idea or her.

"I'll go after work."

Even though he'd hated leaving Daisy with a fever, there wasn't much of a choice. Skipping work wasn't an option, he'd end up arrested for truancy, and Madge certainly couldn't take her out in the storm.

His baby was sick and he was helpless until the end of work bell rang.

"I can go get the medicine," Sage offered.

"I can go too," Briar chimed in, hat already on and boots in hand.

"No," Gale told them, the firmness in his voice cutting off any arguments.

He wasn't having them come down with something worse than what their sister already had or frozen in a snowdrift. He'd go to the Mayor's house right after work.

There'd been no going to the Mayor's house though, despite Gale's hours long attempt. The road into Town was iced over and the snow had been blowing so hard Gale hadn't been able to see more than a foot in front of him.

A rattling cough echoes around the room as Madge settles down on the bed in exhaustion, laying Daisy down beside her.

She looks a little pink in the cheeks too, truth be told, and the thought of her being sick too turns his stomach.

Pregnant women who get sick in the Seam don't last long. Her chances would be worse than Daisy's if she caught something.

Reaching out, he brushes a strand of hair from her face, presses his hand to her forehead.

"I'm fine, Gale, I'm just tired."

"You need to sleep then," he tells her, leaning in and kissing her forehead, grateful not to feel a fever flushing her skin. "I'll take over."

She looks like she wants to argue, but she's just too run down to do more than wrinkle her nose in annoyance as she combs her fingers through Daisy's sweat soaked hair.

Getting up, Gale snatches up the washrag from the bedside table and heads out to dunk it in the rain barrel. Daisy needs to cool down, and cold water is the one thing they have in abundance.

He's barely out the door when he nearly trips over Sage.

"Can I go in?" He asks, peeking around Gale's legs. "Please?"

Despite not wanting him to catch whatever Daisy has, Gale nods. "Just don't get in her face."

Nodding, Sage rushes in.

Hurrying to the kitchen, Gale goes out the backdoor to the porch.

Taking a metal bowl he'd grabbed off the counter he breaks through the ice that'd formed in the rain barrel and dips out freezing water before rushing back in.

He's so busy trying not to drop the bowl from his shivering, that he doesn't notice Briar shutting the door behind him.

"Is Daisy gonna die?"

For a moment Gale pretends not to hear her, focuses on brushing snow from his shoulders and hair and finding the rag he'd dropped. Then she asks again.

"Dad, is Daisy gonna die?"

Swallowing down doubt, Gale doesn't look at her as he tries to find an answer that won't make him a liar.

Truthfully, he doesn't know. Daisy is still little. In the Seam, the very old and the smallest among them are the worst casualties of the yearly illnesses. He doesn't like to think of how many tiny bundles he's seen vanishing in the snow piling up beside the houses.

Bile rises in his throat at the thought of Daisy wrapped in a quilt, put out in the cold like garbage.

He won't let that happen. Not to his little girl.

"What makes you ask that?" He finally asks in place of an answer.

"Rowan's little sister died," she answers, eyes dropping to the puddle forming at Gale's feet. "The last day of school, Ms. Holly told us. She got real sick, real fast, and she died."

She fidgets for a moment, before looking up, her eyes shining.

"I know she's stupid and little, and I don't like to play with her, but I don't want Daisy to die!"

Fat tears begin rolling down her cheeks, dripping down the front of her shirt and her face crumples before Gale can even register what she's said.

Reaching out, Gale pulls her into a hug, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

"Shhhh," he tries to calm her, but she only sobs harder.

It takes several minutes of Briar shaking against Gale's chest before her tears slow and she's left with sniffles and hiccups.

"I'm s-s-sorry," she stutters, rubbing her eyes on her shirt sleeve.

Kissing her head again, Gale sighs. "I know, baby girl, I know."

"Jus' tell me," she looks up at him, her eyes still bright with tears, "is she gonna die?"

#######

Gale squints into the wind, pulling the multiple coats tight around him as he struggles through the snow.

"I'm going to Abernathy's," he'd told Madge, as he'd dug out several extra socks. "He keeps medicine, doesn't he?"

He'd hoped so. Something needed to go right. Daisy wasn't going to die, not if Gale had strength left in his body.

Madge frowned, looking away from Daisy for long enough for Sage to take the rag from her and begin dabbing his sister's forehead.

"I-He used to. For when he was hung over…" Then she'd shaken her head. "He might not now though. You might get all the way up there and for nothing."

But since Haymitch Abernathy's place was closer than the Mayor's, more accessible through sheltered back routes, it was Gale's best shot.

Briar had tried to follow him, bundled up and tumbled out the front door after him, but Gale had sent her back in.

"Help your mother," he'd ordered her.

"She has Sage."

"She needs you too, tough girl."

Grumbling, she'd gone back in, casting Gale a sulky glare over her shoulder as she'd shut the door.

After what feels like hours, might actually be, Gale finally reaches the break in the wood.

He can't seen Abernathy's house, the snow is falling too thick, but he trudges in the direction he knows it is.

Stumbling, Gale finally finds the back steps.

He slips a few times, catches himself on the crumbling railing before finally getting to the back door.

Abernathy isn't home. He'd been whisked away to the Capitol for the Victory Tour, but he never locks his doors.

"What've I got to steal?" He'd muttered when Gale had complained about how unsecured his home was when he'd come to pick Briar and Sage up from him a few years ago. "If the kids stayed all night I'd lock it up so tight a cockroach couldn't squeeze in."

"They aren't staying here," Gale told him simply, eyeing the filth littering the house with undisguised disgust. "Ever."

Grunting, Gale pushes the door open and reaches to where he know the light switch is and flips it. Nothing happens.

Apparently, the Capitol's ability to keep the electricity on lost out to Mother Nature's ability to bury the entire district in snow and ice.

Despite the dark, he can see the kitchen is disgusting.

There's trash everywhere, tossed haphazardly on the table and countertop, littering the floor, and molding food spilling out of the trashcan. If it weren't for the cold, Gale is pretty sure the room would reek of rot.

Without bothering to knock the snow from his boots, Gale stomps in and glares around, wondering where a filthy old drunk would hid his medicine.

"He keeps his pills in the bathroom," a tiny, muffled voice answers his unasked question.

Grinding his teeth, Gale turns.

"I thought I sent you back in the house?"

Briar, snow caked to every inch of her and clinging to her eyelashes, gives Gale a sheepish shrug.

He should've known she wouldn't stay in. Playing caretaker isn't in her nature.

"I wanned'a help," she mumbles through her scarf, eyes casting down.

Deciding now wasn't the time to punish her for very deliberately ignoring him, Gale sighs.

"Any candles around here?"

Tottering over, Briar fumbles with her mittened hands, trying to open one of the drawers before Gale goes over and opens it for her.

There are a few half melted candles inside, alongside some cigar stubs and a battered tin.

"He keeps the matches on the fridge, 'cause he thinks Sage and me can't get to them up there," she tells him, rolling her eyes. Clearly, Abernathy underestimates them.

After a few minutes of fumbling around, Gale finds the matches, lights one of the dusty candles, and lets Briar lead him up the stairs to where she thinks the medicine is.

"How do you know he keeps the pills in his bathroom?" Gale finally asks, once some of the cold has seeped from his bones.

Pulling her scarf down, Briar smiles.

"He told me. He said, 'kid, don't mess with this, but if I need it, you'll know where it is'."

Praying that Abernathy's stash is more than just painkillers, Gale grimly follows Briar through the first door on the landing.

The bedroom is as bad as the kitchen. Piles of clothes, some that look like they've been there since before the Dark Days, are in every corner. The bed is little more than a stack of pillows and what might've been pants once upon a time, and the window has a ragged bath towel pinned over it.

Rolling his eyes and wondering how anyone could live like this, Gale walks beside Briar as they enter the bathroom.

There are towels and moldering clothes all over, in layers over the tile, and the bathtub has several socks and shoes in it.

"What a slob," Gale mutters to himself as Briar opens a drawer.

She pulls out several bottles and holds them out. "Which one is it?"

Frowning, Gale stares at the bottles, foreign names written on them, for several minutes before shaking his head. His stomach drops.

"I don't know."

#######

Gale hasn't been to Katniss' house since before her Victory Tour, and in the years since she'd cut him from her life without so much as a goodbye he's had no desire to revisit it.

He has a good life, and Katniss Everdeen has no place in it.

Katniss isn't home though, and he needs someone with medical knowledge, and for the moment, Mrs. Everdeen is his best bet.

Briar's hand tight in his, Gale struggles through the snow, to the dark steps leading to the Everdeen house.

He knocks on the door, and for a few minutes waits.

"Maybe they aren't home?" Briar offers, cupping her hands and pressing her face to the glass of the door.

Balling his hand up, Gale bangs on the door louder.

"Mrs. Everdeen! Prim! It's Gale Hawthorne! Can you come to the door?"

From inside he hears the scuffling of feet, then the clicking of locks, before the door slowly opens and blue eyes peek out.

He hasn't seen Prim in years. She doesn't venture to the Seam and she doesn't have many friends since her move to the Victors' Village, so Gale hardly has the opportunity to run into her.

She's faded, like a washed out version of the girl he'd held the hand of during the 74th Games. Her skin is paler than Madge's, hair limp, but when she smiles, there's a glimmer of the girl she'd been.

"Gale?" Her smile brightens once she sees it's really him. "Gale, what are you doing here?"

A strong gust of wind nearly knocks Briar off her feet before he can answer, and Prim yelps, opening the door wider and waving for them to come in.

Picking Briar up, Gale steps across the threshold and instantly feels warmer without the wind on him.

"Come in the living room," Prim tells them, ushering Gale toward room to their left, to the faint yellow glow of a fire in the hearth.

Gale sets Briar down and urges her to warm up, briskly rubbing her arms with his gloved hands before he's happy she isn't frozen, then stands and turns to Prim.

"Gale…" She smiles again, then shakes her head, looking down at Briar. "Who is this?"

Briar's teeth are still chattering, so Gale answers for her.

"My girl, Briar."

Prim's smile dims, just enough to be noticed, as she stares at Briar, like she's never seen anything quite like her before. Then she shakes her head, forcing her smile up again.

"I'd heard you had kids," she raises her eyes to him. "How many do you have?"

"Three," his lips twitch up. "About to have four."

"Momma's pregnant," Briar explains. "She's gonna have another baby even though dad said Daisy was the last."

Covering her mouth, Prim laughs. "Oh? That's so?"

Briar nods. "Yeah-"

"Prim," Gale cuts in, both afraid of what Briar might say next and anxious to get answers and get back to his sick kid and pregnant wife, "I need you to look at this medicine and tell me if any of it is for fevers."

Without waiting for a response, he pulls all the bottles from his pockets and pushes them into Prim's hands.

"My youngest, she's sick, she's burning up and she has a cough and she looks…" he bites his lip. "She looks terr-"

"Prim? Prim is everything okay? I heard-" Mrs. Everdeen stops at the entry, expression frozen in confusion as she spots first Gale, and then Briar. "What's happened?"

#######

"It sounds like pneumonia," Mrs. Everdeen tells him as she hands him peppermint leave, wrapped in a small bag. "The peppermint will help her breath, the cupping will help break it up, and make sure she drinks plenty of fluids, it helps thin secretions."

The years have worn her down as much as they have his own mom, maybe more. Her hair is almost entirely white and the wrinkles on her face are more pronounced.

Her smile and her spirit are still kind though, ready to help a poor man in desperate need.

She picks up one of the bottles and hands it to him as well.

"This will help with the fevers, only give her half of one every six hours, tepid baths, and no blankets, she'll cook if you wrap her up, am I clear?"

Nodding, Gale takes the pills and stuffs them in his inner pockets.

"Now get home," Mrs. Everdeen tells him, smiling softly. "It was good to see you, Gale."

For a moment Gale considers hugging her, but stops himself. Too much has happened, too many years have passed.

"Thank you," is all he manages to say, his voice breaking.

"I hope she gets better."

Gale nods. "Me too."

Putting his coats and gloves back on, Gale gathers up Briar, who'd settled down by the little fire and nodded off against Prim's shoulder.

"She's beautiful, Gale," she whispers as she puts Briar's hat back on. "You're so lucky. You have no idea how lucky you are."

Prim's wide blue eyes shine for heartbeat, focused on Briar's sleeping face, before she blinks away the tears.

Gale wants to ask her why she's become a shut in, never ventures any further than the Mellark Bakery, why her circle of friends has dwindled in the years since Katniss' so-called victory.

He doesn't though.

They aren't friends, haven't been in many years.

He has no right to their secrets.

"Yeah," he says instead, shifting Briar in his arm. "I know."

Even though, he thinks maybe he doesn't.

#######

When they finally battle their way home, through howling wind and snow that turns to ice raining down as they reach their front yard, Daisy is boiling.

Her soft blonde hair is plastered to her forehead, eyes bright with the fever, and she doesn't even try to sit up when they blow in. A feeble cough and a pathetic whimper are all she manages to greet them with.

"Take this, baby," Gale coaxes her to take the half pill, crushed up and mixed with some mush to hide the flavor. "Just a bite."

Ever his easy child, Daisy's eyes open fractionally before coughing and letting Gale spoon the medicine into her mouth.

"Now we have to drink," he urges her to sip from the cup.

She whimpers but lets him tip the cool water into her mouth, a disconcerting amount dribbling out and down the front of her hand-me-down nightgown.

"Good girl," he tells her as she lays back on the bed, eyes drooping closed again.

Settling down beside her, Gale presses a kiss to her temple and listens as she struggles to breath.

The wind howls and the windows rattle, but they aren't louder than the awful noises his daughter makes.

#######

The ice and snow are too much for the ancient mining equipment, and the next day the mines are closed, much to Gale's relief. He hadn't slept the entire night.

Instead he'd stayed up, watching Daisy take ragged little breathes, praying to whatever god would listen to him that she'd take another.

Daisy's fevers spike and break several times, crushing Gale's hope with each cycle. They cup her back, just as Mrs. Everdeen had told him to, force her to drink, take the medicine, press cool rags to her fevered skin, but she stays flushed and fevered.

It isn't until the third awful day, that her fever stays down.

She's still pale, lips cracked, coughing, but her eyes lose that awful brightness of sickness and she asks for water before they force it on her.

"We can make snowman?" She asks, once Gale carries her to the living room on the second day without a fever, lets her look out the window at the now gentle snow.

"Not today, cupcake." She'll be lucky if he lets her outside anymore this winter after the scare she'd given him.

"Tomo-ow?"

Gale chuckles and squeezes her tighter to his chest, presses a kiss to her hair.

"You're too sick to go outside," Sage reminds her.

"I no sick," Daisy informs him, looking slightly offended. "Daddy, I no sick no more. Remember that to him."

Dropping onto the couch, Gale sets Daisy down and watches as she weakly makes her way to the fire happily crackling on the hearth.

Sage hovers anxiously at her elbow, waiting until she sits down before plopping onto his knees beside her.

"Want me to read you a story, Dais?"

"Story!" She cheers, clapping. "I pick story?"

Nodding, Sage takes her hand and pulls her up, let's her cheerfully, if slowly, pull him down the hall to the bedroom where the few books they have are tucked away.

Madge waddles in a moment later, looking marginally more rested than she has the past few day, with a small bowl of steaming soup in hand.

"Here," she hands it to Gale.

Taking it, Gale lets her plop with as much grace as she has left, beside him, before inspecting what will be passing for their lunch.

The bowl is only half full. A weak broth with a handful of wilted vegetables and the last of the meat.

It's hardly enough, but it's more than most are getting. With the storm letting up finally at least he has the hope of going out to the woods to stock up before the mines thaw and take all his time up again.

He should be worried about a week without pay, but he can't find it in him.

Time with his family is too precious, and he won't regret being with them instead of being in a frozen pit.

Reaching out, he pulls her close, kisses her hair and lets his hand snake around and rest on her growing belly.

"He's kicking," she grumbles, rubbing just below her ribs.

Gale almost says kicking is good, it means the baby is alive, but doesn't. He's exhausted with fighting for signs of life and hope.

Instead he watches as Briar carries three small bowls of soup to the living room one at a time, set them in front of the fireplace, then rush off and return with the pillow from her bed as Sage and Daisy come back with their book.

"Sit on the pillow, Daisy," she tells her, not even giving her sister a chance to question her.

She gently shoves Daisy onto the pillow before plopping down beside her.

"I blowed on your soup, see if it's cold enough."

While Daisy tests her meal, Sage opens his book and sets it between them so the other two can see the bright pictures on the pages.

Gale and Madge watch as Sage animatedly reads to his sisters and Briar tips a little of her soup into her sister's bowl as Daisy is too absorbed in the tale to notice.

It's an uncharacteristic moment of peace after the turbulence of the past few days, and Gale is all too happy to enjoy it.

Glancing out the window, Gale decides that if the snow keeps thinning, he'll go to the woods before evening. They need food and the twins deserve some kind of respite. They've been dutiful helpers and some time outdoors is as good a reward as any. Then they can have a real meal for dinner. No sharing, full plates for all of them.

For the moment though, he sets his half eaten soup on the ground with plans on covertly pouring it into Briar's bowl when she isn't looking, then pulls Madge closer.

He's lucky. Luckier than most. More than he probably even realizes.

They're all alive and well for the time being, and he doesn't want to miss a moment of it.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I'm just playing with Suzanne Collins' characters and her world. They're hers. Not mine. Any lines from the books are hers too.
> 
> AN: Yeah, a little soap opera-y. Sorry. Might get around to writing the other reactions, we shall see.

Madge hums to herself, the warm breeze of a dying summer ruffling her hair as she hangs the last of the laundry on the line. There aren't many more days left to dry it outside and she wants as much done as she can before the cool hits.

Smiling, she goes to the porch to work on her knitting.

It's a tiny little pair of socks, much less lumpy than the first set she'd knitted all those years ago, when she'd been trying to prove she was more than a warm body in Gale's bed. She's gotten more proficient over the years, five children encourage it, and now with Abilene several months into her first pregnancy she's putting that skill to use again.

"What if it's twins?" Sage had wondered aloud, looking horrified at the thought only minutes after he'd announced the news.

"They skip generations, from what I've read," Vick had told him. He'd shrugged. "I looked it up after you and Briar were born."

That hadn't seemed to comfort Sage as much as it was probably meant to, but he'd nodded all the same.

"At least you got that spot in the Engineering Corps," Daisy reminded him. "Even if it's twins, you'll be okay."

He has extra income and that means extra food. Times won't be as lean if he adds another mouth to the equation when the baby comes.

"Yeah," he'd nodded, still distracted by the prospect of having not only one but two babies.

While Sage was sick with worry about becoming a dad, Gale was past excited about being a grandpa. He'd told everyone at the Hob the day he'd found out, much to Miles' annoyance.

"Trust me, dad, they can tell you're a grandpa. Look at your hair." He'd reached up and plucked one of the silver threads of hair from Gale's head, holding it to his face. "You old."

Briar had rolled her eyes, always her dad's defender.

"Oh, shut up, Miles." She'd swatted his hand down. "It's a normal amount of gray."

That hadn't softened the blow much, and Gale had kept his cap on more and more. Plucking the gray was no longer an option. He could shave his head, the only way to guarantee the gray is gone, but Madge had already warned him against it.

"Don't even think about it." She'd leaned in, her lips to his ear as she'd nuzzled closer to him in bed. "I like your hair, whatever color it is."

After that she'd shown him just how much.

"Not bad for an old man, huh?" He'd growled against her shoulder, pressing kisses up her neck.

"Mmm," Madge had agreed, pulling him closer, kissing his graying temple.

She's so distracted by the memory that she doesn't notice someone coming to the back door until it creaks open.

"Mom?" Daisy frowns as Madge startles and drops the yarn, needles clattering on the wood porch and skittering away.

Leaning forward to save her knitting, Madge glances over her shoulder and smiles.

"You're early."

Normally, Daisy changes out of her school clothes after the last bell and heads to help either Hazelle or Mr. Abernathy, occasionally stopping at the Mellark bakery to help Abilene.

She doesn't get home until late most nights, sometimes after dark. Something Gale has complained about.

"It's not safe to be wandering around at this time." He'd eyed the wrinkles on her dress, the mud splatters in her shoes, probably imagining the filthy minded men lingering in the shadows, watching his child with less than pure thoughts.

"I'm fine, dad," she'd waved him off, when she'd arrived home, looking a little rumpled. "It's-I just tripped."

Wren's mouth had dropped open, and Madge had gotten the distinct feeling she was about to say something, but Daisy had silenced her with a look.

Daisy's school uniform is still on today though, not a wrinkle in sight, and she's a little pale, hair loose.

"Are you sick?" Madge asks, standing and pressing her hand to her daughter's forehead.

Shaking her head, Daisy grimaces. "No I-I'm fine, I just needed to talk to you."

A knot forms in the pit of Madge's stomach. It hardly sounds like a good conversation is about to happen.

"Okay," Madge nods, sitting back down and putting her knitting back in its basket.

Taking a breath, Daisy sits on the rickety footstool beside Madge. It wobbles for a moment as she fidgets with the hem of her dress before stilling and biting her lip.

"I-um-I've been-"she shakes her head, frustrated, then looks up at Madge, tears brimming in her eyes. "Mom...I'm pregnant."

For a moment Madge doesn't think she's heard her right, just stares at her in quiet confusion as she tries to put together just what her child has told her.

Daisy isn't pregnant. She can't be. She's never even been on a date.

"What-sweetie, what are you talking about?"

"I'm pregnant, mom." She gestures at her stomach, tears sliding down her cheeks. "I've got a baby in me. I'm going to have a baby."

She's ridiculous. Sage is the one with a baby on the way, not Daisy.

Madge shakes her head. "No, Daisy, you can't b-"

"I've been seeing someone," she cuts her off, voice cracking. "I didn't-I was afraid to tell anyone but Wren."

Her lip quivers for a moment and she seems poised to break when she buries her face in her hands, silently sobbing as Madge tries to make sense of what she's saying.

Not Daisy…

She's only a child. She's still in school. She can't be pregnant…

Reaching out, Madge pulls her onto her chair and into a hug, feeling her sobs shaking her body.

"Shhh, sweetheart, it's okay."

Daisy shakes her head, breath shuddering. "No it's not."

Madge winces. Really, she's right.

She's young and unmarried. This is a disaster by definition.

Immediately, Madge begins running through things they can do, trying to find a way to save her daughter. All the desperate thoughts she'd had when she'd found herself pregnant and alone all those years ago come flooding back, amplified by the fear of having a child ripped from her arms.

"Briar is going to kill me."

Frowning, Madge smoothes Daisy's hair, steadying herself in the present.

Briar is hardly the one Daisy needs to worry about. She'll be angry, mostly out of worry and frustration that her little sister is in trouble, but Gale is the bigger problem.

To say he's going to be furious that a boy has gotten his little girl pregnant is an understatement. The boy will be lucky if Gale doesn't beat him half to death before he drags him to the Justice Building for a very unplanned wedding.

Pulling back, Madge forces a smile. All that will come later, right now her daughter needs her and her reassurance.

"Briar won't be-"

"She will be!" Daisy half shouts, her eyes puffy, rubbing her nose, tears still coming. "She's gonna think I did it on purpose."

Madge shakes her head. Whatever their differences, Briar is hardly going to blame Daisy for this. She'll probably think she's stupid for getting in this situation, and will undoubtedly say just that, but she won't blame her.

These things happen. Briar and Sage are proof of that.

"Daisy," Madge sighs. "Why would Bri be mad?"

Sniffling, Daisy begins fidgeting with the hem of her dress again, chewing her lip hard enough that Madge expects blood before looking up.

"Because it's Rowan's," she whispers, eyes still downcast. "It's Rowan I've been seeing. I didn't want to say anything because I knew Briar would hate me."

Madge closes her eyes, almost groaning.

The Barrows boy. Why did it have to be the Barrows boy?

He's not a boy, not really anymore. He's Briar and Sage's age, and that's only the start of the problem.

Briar has had a crush on him for years. His flirting with Daisy when she'd only been little more than a child had triggered the first of many one sided fights between Briar and Daisy.

"What do all the guys see in her?" Briar had complained when Daisy had been asked to the Fall Festival a few years prior.

She'd never had any boys ask her, and clearly she was rankling under the snub and the constant unfavorable comparisons to her younger sister.

"She's not as cranky as you," Wren had answered, not even looking up from her coloring. "And she smiles."

"I smile!" Briar snapped.

"Yeah, and small animals flee," Miles muttered.

Over the past few years Rowan Barrows has continued to flirt with Daisy, much to Briar's annoyance.

She's continued to nurse her crush, despite his disinterest, and Daisy obviously knew.

It's no wonder she's kept her dating him a secret, but Madge wishes she'd have just not dated him at all. There are other boys, but her sister is her sister.

It's messy. Too much drama.

Daisy and Briar are sisters, they shouldn't hurt each other like this, over some stupid boy.

"Mom...I tried not to like him, I tried, but...I just...he was so always nice to me-he liked me, not Briar. He brings me flowers after he leaves the mines, he reads the same books I do, we both like music and-and he asked me to marry him-before I found out I was pregnant…" she sighs, energy spent, eyes closed. "I love him. He loves me. And Briar...she's gonna hate me for it."

"She won't hate-"

"Yes," Daisy stops her, voice stronger than it's been since she started her confession. "She's been looking for a reason for years, and now I've given it to her."

"No-"

"It's not even that she'll hate me," she laughs, tears spilling over again. "She's just gonna hate me more. She's always hated me."

Madge pulls her back into a hug, struggling to find the words to explain that her sister's misplaced jealousy isn't the same as hate, but falling short.

Briar's resentment will have to wait. Now isn't the time. She isn't even sure when the right time will be, if there ever will be.

She sighs.

She needs Gale. She needs him to help her help their children not to hate each other.

Rowan wants to marry Daisy, and she very much seems to want to marry him. That's one hurdle they won't have to worry about. Gale won't have to drag a man to a marriage of convenience, though Madge isn't sure that won't keep him from taking out his fury on him anyways.

"It'll be okay," Madge murmurs, not really sure if she believes it herself.

#######

Gale knows something is wrong the minute he steps through the front door.

His home is rarely quiet. Either the kids are shouting, talking loudly or arguing, or Madge is humming in the kitchen, cooking dinner.

Today it's silent, not so much as the scraping of a spatula on a pan to be heard.

Frowning, he takes of his coat and kicks off his boots, pulls his cap a little more snugly on his head before venturing deeper, into the kitchen.

Sitting at the table, eyes red rimmed and puffy, is Daisy.

Madge is at her side, pale faced and grim, smoothing their daughter's hair.

"What's going on?" He asks, feeling certain he isn't going to like the answer.

Briar is probably in the woods, but Madge has deliberately sent Miles and Wren off, to keep them from whatever shit is about to hit. It's a bad omen if there ever was.

Forcing a smile, the worry lines on her face creasing, Madge gets up and walks to him, wraps her arms around his middle and presses her cheek to his chest.

"I need you to stay calm," she whispers. "I need you to listen before you say anything."

Immediately Gale tenses, his heart speeds up as he eyes Daisy, certain someone has hurt her.

She's too sweet, too forgiving and trusting, and he'd known it was an invitation for someone to hurt her. Now one of his worst fears has come true.

"Gale…" Madge's warning tone pulls him back from starting an interrogation, asking who'd hurt her, how, when. Daisy is clearly already in a state, and his demanding answers won't help that.

Squeezing Madge, reassuring her he won't barrel in and upset Daisy, Gale presses a kiss to her hair and sighs.

"What happened?"

Pulling back, Madge gestures to one of the mismatched chairs

She wants him to sit. That's not good.

Certain his heart is going to beat out of his chest, Gale sits, takes a breath, and rests his arms on the table.

"Daisy?"

Tears well in her eyes and she glances at Madge, who has placed a hand on Gale's shoulder. Probably to keep him from flying out of his seat.

"Dad, I-I-you know, how you and mom…"she makes a frustrated noise, swats the tears from her eyes and takes a breath, eyes dropping to her hands. "Dad, I'm pregnant."

For a few minutes Gale isn't sure what she's said. His mind can't wrap around it.

Daisy is a child, just a little girl, she's never even been on a date.

Someone hurt her, it's the only explanation.

"Who?" He finally growls. "Who did this to you?"

Someone hurt his baby and he's going to make them pay.

He gets up, ready to fight, but Madge has him by the arm, telling him to listen and Daisy is up and around the table, tears dripping off her face, begging him not to be mad.

"Dad, he wants to marry me-he loves me…"

She stands in front of him, tears falling silently as she stares up at him, silent except for her sobs.

For a second she's just a little girl again, upset about someone being mean to her, asking Gale to make everything better. He can't help her now though, only that damned boy can.

Reaching out, Gale pulls her into a hug. It's all he has to offer at the moment.

"Briar is never gonna talk to me again," she finally whimpers, shuddering against him.

Gale smoothes her hair, uncertain what to say, unsure what she's even talking about at this point. He looks at Madge, silently asking her what their daughter is on about.

Madge mouths a name.

"Rowan Barrows."

Gale's arms tighten around Daisy.

That filthy piece of gutter trash did this.

Gale has hated that lousy boy since the first fight he'd caused between the girls. He's been nothing but trouble, flirting with Daisy and ignoring Briar, for years.

Briar had told him off a few times, but Gale got the impression she was too enamored with the idiot to be truly effective.

"He just keeps on," she'd complained. "What's so damn special about her?"

Gale hadn't answered. He didn't have an answer. He loves all his girls, and he can't pinpoint just what it is about Daisy that draws boys in. If he could, he'd put a stop to it.

In the back of his mind though, he has his suspicions.

Daisy's sweet, quiet, and the closest most boys from the Seam will ever get to a girl from Town.

Briar is tough, too much his child, and he's a bit worried he's made her a little too rough around the edges. While he appreciates her hearty nature, he'd been infatuated with Katniss for that very reason, he understands why most boys look past her to Daisy.

It's knowledge he never wants to say out loud. It would break Briar's heart.

"Briar loves you," Gale murmurs, pressing a kiss to her hair. "She's not gonn-"

Daisy pulls back, furiously swatting at her eyes.

"No-dad you don't understand." She shakes her head. "She hates me. She's hated me forever and now-now she's never going to forgive me."

Reaching out, Gale pulls her back into a hug, closes his eyes.

Briar loves her sister, but she's been jealous of her forever. It's strained their relationship for years. This is only going to feed that fire. That much Daisy has right.

Still, Briar will come around, but it will take time, and Gale isn't sure how much.

Grinding his teeth, Gale closes his eyes and silently wonders how long he's going to have to let the Barrows kid survive past his toasting before dragging him into the woods and showing him what happens when you mess with a man's children.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I'm just playing with Suzanne Collins' characters and her world. They're hers. Not mine. Any lines from the books are hers too.
> 
> AN: Last chapter for a while.

Gale waits on the broken down sofa, some of Thom's awful home brew in a cracked glass, gripped in his hands. He glances at the clock.

Briar will be home soon, she's as predictable as the sun and moon.

It's Wednesday, snare checking day, she'll be home just after dark.

He hasn't dreaded anything as much as this since he'd told his mom about Madge's pregnancy and how badly he'd mangled that relationship. This might be worse actually.

Daisy is on the back porch with Madge, maybe talking, maybe just sitting. They've talked for hours, silence might be all that's left.

Leaning forward, Gale presses his fingers to his eyes, runs them up and through his hair. If it wasn't gray before, it will be now. Drama over some idiot boy isn't how he wanted to earn it, but he supposes he deserves it that way.

He'd gotten off easy when Madge got pregnant. Daniel had been the picture of calm and Matilda loved him from the moment she met him. Madge might have kept him at arm's length, but she'd thawed. He hadn't suffered like he should have.

Instead of being punished for his own stupidity, he's got another jackass' mess to deal with.

He shakes the thought away.

He isn't the one going to be hurting for this. His girls will be.

Why couldn't Daisy have liked another boy? Why Barrows?

A mirthless chuckle rumbles in his chest.

Much as she looks like Madge, this proves she's his daughter. Impulsive and short sighted to a fault. Of all the traits to inherit.

"I just…" Daisy had grasped for the words to explain just how she'd ended up at this point.

"Got swept up?" Gale echoes his father-in-law's words from a lifetime ago.

She nodded, swatted at the tears still trickling down her cheeks.

"I didn't-I didn't want to hurt Bri...but I just...I fell." She takes a shuddering breath. "I can already hear her-telling me I'm stupid-I just did it for attention-I want to be the victim-"

"She won't say that," Gale tried to comfort her, but Daisy had just snorted.

"Why not? She's said it all before."

Gale didn't know what to say to that, if he even should try. He hadn't known, and neither had Madge.

"If she said those thing, Dais, she didn't mean them," Madge told her, holding her hand.

"She said them," Daisy whispers, rubbing her nose. "And she meant every word."

Madge opened her mouth to argue, but Daisy kept going.

"Maybe she's right," she mutters. "I do like the attention, maybe not like she thinks, but...I like having someone who brings me flowers, and is excited to talk to me, who wants me around even if I'm useless."

"You aren't useless," Gale grumbled.

She shook her head. "I can't hunt or set snares or bring home dinner like Briar."

"I can't do any of those things either," Madge reminded her. "You can cook, bake, sew, knit-I couldn't do any of those things when your dad and I got married."

"Briar can do all of it," Daisy sighed. "She's always gonna be better than me, and she's always gonna hate me, because she's right, I'm stupid and useless. I'm just a victim."

Much as they tried to convince her otherwise, Daisy had simple sat, teary eyed and silent. Her energy spent.

"Do you think Briar said those things?" Gale asked Madge, once Daisy was on the porch, out of earshot.

Madge shrugged.

"No?" She buried her face in her hands. "I don't know. Maybe? She might've said things and Daisy interpreted them wrong…"

Because the cold reality was, Briar didn't soften her words. She was blunt, and Gale and Madge both knew she may have said just what Daisy repeated.

They both doubt her intent was to hurt her sister. Gale imagines Briar had been using her own brand of tough love, trying to goad her into learning new skills, stand up for herself, be more self-sustaining. Not that any of that eased the blow.

Slouching back, Gale sighs. He'd created this situation.

Briar had always been his shadow, been the most like him, and he'd fed that. He'd encouraged her to help her siblings, and that no doubt lead to her treatment of Daisy.

The front door creaks open, drawing Gale from his self-loathing.

Briar steps in, drops her game bag and shrugs off her coat before she even notices Gale.

She smiles, and Gale tries to memorize it. He has a feeling he won't be seeing it again for a while.

It vanishes the second she sees his grim expression.

"Who died?"

Gale shakes his head. "No one." He pats the couch. "Sit down, Briar."

She hesitates, looking more uneasy about his request than she has about anything in her life, but finally, slowly, sits down next to him, perched at the edge of the cushion, ready to bolt.

Taking a long drink, Gale tries to think of a good way to tell, some way to soften it. He's been thinking about it for hours. There's no good way to break a heart.

"You-you, uh, catch anything?"

Her nose wrinkles up, sensing his stalling. "Just say what you need to say, dad."

Almost laughing, Gale nods, downs the rest of his drink.

"Daisy, she's...Daisy is pregnant."

For a moment she just stares at him, seemingly processing what he's said, then she stands.

"I always knew she'd get in trouble," she grumbles, grabbing her coat. She frowns. "Why aren't you getting up? Did you already get the asshole? Did you tell Papa? He can get the papers going-and Mr. Abernathy-if this guy tries anything, he's always told me he knows a girl-"

Gale stands, cuts her off. "We don't need Haymitch or his weird friends."

She makes a frustrated noise. "Of course we d-"

"The guy-he's told her he wants to get married already."

Grip in her coat loosening, Briar closes her eyes and sighs. She opens them and sets him in a weary look. "He's an asshole, isn't he?"

You have no idea, Gale thinks darkly.

Walking to her, Gale takes a breath.

"Briar…" he feels his heart stop. "Briar, it's Barrows."

She freezes, an animal caught in one of her snares, confused and panicked but trapped all the same.

"Rowan?"

Gale nods.

Her breath shudders in her chest and she nods, rubs her nose.

"Okay-sure, fine-that's fine-great," she nods, tears swelling in her eyes. "I was always gonna lose that one, right? Didn't have a chance against pretty, perfect Daisy."

Turning, she tosses her coat, crosses her arms over her chest and takes several deep breaths before turning back to Gale, tears rolling off her cheeks.

"Why?" She shakes her head. "What's wrong with me? What's she got that I don't?"

Reaching for her, Gale pulls her into a hug, presses a kiss into her hair.

"Nothing. It's just…"

He can't tell her. He doesn't have an answer.

Her tears soak through his shirt and she grips him tighter, cries harder.

Several minutes tick by, punctuated by hiccups and sniffles, until finally Briar's breathing evens out.

"She's easier to love," she finally mumbles. "She's prettier and she's nicer and she's just-she's easier to love."

Gale isn't sure how to respond to that, if he's even supposed to.

Pulling back, she frantically wipes her eyes, laughs, watery and angry.

"She's soft and I'm tough and-and now she's pregnant and I'm just…"she snatched her coat from the ground. "I need to go."

Reaching out, Gale catches her by the wrist, but she yanks it away.

"Don't touch me!" She snarls, loud enough Gale is sure their nosy neighbor will be at the window, trying to hear the argument. "I don't need comfort, or pity, or any of that crap, I'm not Daisy, obviously."

Madge comes rushing in from the porch, stopping at the kitchen entry, watching Briar sadly. "Sweetheart…"

"Don't," she snap, shaking her head. "You can't make this better, mom."

Daisy appears around Madge's side, looking more anxious than she'd been when she'd told Gale.

"Don't yell at mom, this isn't her fault," she tells her, voice shaking.

"You're right," Briar agrees, grinding her teeth. "It's yours."

"I'm so-"

"You aren't," Briar cuts her off. "Don't try that bullshit with me. I'm not some horny boy. You can't just bat your eyes and push up your boobs and expect me-"

"That's enough," Gale warns her. Mad as she is, hurt as she is, he won't let her do this.

Daisy is crying, silent tears dripping off her face, arms protectively crossed over her middle. She won't argue or defend herself, that isn't her nature. She's always taken Briar's barbs quietly, accepted her apologies without question. He can't watch her get torn to pieces.

"No, it's not. You always protect her. Well now you can't. She's gone out and now every awful thing anyone's ever said about her is true. She's not even out of school and a few trips to the Slag Heap and she's knocked up. Because she just a big sl-"

"Stop," Madge cuts her off, her voice not so much as rising.

At some point she'd walked to Briar, taken her by the shoulders. She smoothes her hair, tries to smile as she wipes a few of the tears from Briar's face.

"Bri, baby, don't say another word," she gently tells her. "I know you're hurt, and hurting Daisy might make you feel better right now, but tomorrow, the next day, or the next...you'll regret it."

Briar snorts, shakes her head and puts on her coat. "I won't."

She tosses one last dark look over her shoulder at Daisy before flinging open the door and storming out without another word.

#######

Hours creep by, but Briar doesn't come home. They hadn't expected her to return, but they'd hoped.

"She's probably at Sage's," Gale muttered, heading for the door, pulling on his coat.

Madge nodded.

Daisy had gone to her room, shut the door and cried herself to sleep, minutes after Briar had run off. Miles and Wren were still at Hazelle's. That left Madge to hold her lonely vigil.

The house is empty and cold without the kids, and she considers going to the porch when the front door opens.

Gale steps in, followed by Sage, but no Briar.

"We looked everywhere," he tells her, shaking his head, sighing.

Sage nods, plucks at the cuff of his jacket.

"She came by my place," he tells her. "She told me about Daisy."

He's quiet for a moment, then he sighs.

"I don't know what she wanted me to say, mom." He tugs on the hairs at the nape of his neck. "I didn't know what to say."

Madge crosses the room and wraps her arms around him.

"I don't think there's anything to say."

And if there is, Madge hasn't found it yet.

She feels him nod before he pulls back, looks toward the hall.

"Day in her room?"

When Madge nods he smiles, heads toward his sister's room.

Once she hears the bedroom door click shut, Madge looks to Gale.

He curses under his breath.

"Sage said she was drunk when she got to his place." He sighs. "Said she just sat there and cried for an hour before she ran out of liquor and left. He tried to stop her, but she ran off."

They'd check all along the fence, the Hob, the meadow, the Victors Village and Mr. Abernathy's house, Madge's parents, but she didn't want to be found.

"She's in the woods," he finally says. "But I'll be damned if I know how she got out there. They've been turning the electricity on after dark."

Determination and fury, Madge thinks dimly, as Gale tells her he hadn't told her parents why Briar ran off.

"And Haymitch was passed out drunk," he'd huffed. "Probably where Bri got the drinks."

Madge nods in agreement, but doesn't actually hear him. She's too ate up with worry for Briar.

Drunk and angry, there's no telling what will happen to her. She might not think it, but she is a pretty girl, and there are a lot of men who'd hurt her without a thought. It's a worry Madge has nursed for years, that the awful men of her childhood, who'd shouted lewd things at her and threatened her would someday catch one of her children and hurt them.

"I hope she is in the woods," Madge mumbles, more to herself than Gale. At least in the woods she can rage without the fear that someone will hurt her.

Anxiety bubbling over, Madge feels tears brimming in her eyes. She tries to blink them away, but they just slid down her cheeks.

Before she can stop, she's sobbing.

For Briar and Daisy and all their insecurities.

For the childhood Daisy is losing.

For Briar's broken heart.

For their fractured bond.

Gale wraps his arms around her, murmurs comforting nonsense into her hair as he tries to calm her, reassure her it'll all be okay.

It's doesn't do any good though.

What's broken is broken, and she's afraid there's no mending her daughters' relationship.

Her tears slow to a trickle, her breathing evens out, punctuated by little shuddering breaths, until she's still in his arms.

What are they going to do?

The question hangs on her lips, interrupted by a knock at the door.

"Mr. Hawthorne?" A deep voice calls out.

Frowning, Gale lets Madge go and walks to the door, carefully opens it.

Madge's heart stops dead in her chest.

A Peacekeeper.

He's young, maybe a few years older than the twins, umber skin and thick hair pulled back into a knot. There are dirt smears on his uniform, mud splatters on the pants and boots, a tear on his sleeve, his helmet is off, and over his shoulder is a struggling figure.

"I think you lost this," he tells Gale as he sets Briar down.

She swears and takes a swing at him, misses, and stumbles, over correcting and landing on her bottom with a loud thud.

The Peacekeeper sighs, looking unimpressed.

"She's drunk, in case you missed that."

"I'm no-not dr-drinked," she counters, slurring as she struggles to her feet. "You're jus-just a b-big jerk. A big jerk."

"Mmhmm," The Peacekeeper agrees, reaching out and steadying her as she loses her footing again.

She pushes his hand away. "Don't t-toushme."

Madge steps between the two and forces a smile for him.

"Thank you for bringing her home," she tells him, silently willing Briar to be quiet. She's gotten lucky, getting a lenient Peacekeeper, she doesn't need to ruin it by picking a fight.

His amused expression tugs up into interest as he eyes Madge.

"You're her mom?" He lets out a low whistle. "This where you got that pretty face Briar?"

"Shudup," Briar snaps.

The Peacekeeper chuckles. "But you got daddy's temper. Tragic."

Gale rolls his eyes and catches Briar as she nearly topples over.

"What do I owe you, Lew?"

The Peacekeeper, Lew, shrugs.

"A few ramps when they come up next spring," he finally says. "We'll call it even."

Madge wonders if the man knows he could ask for more than a few wild onions, demand more for not tossing Briar in the drunk tank, she's the granddaughter of the Mayor after all, but he seems wholly unconcerned.

Gale nods. "I can do that."

The man starts to leave, but then reaches in his bag and pulls out a boot. Briar's boot.

Madge hadn't even noticed it was gone.

"She threw it at me," he explains. "She missed."

Taking the boot, Madge grimaces.

"Thank you, Lewis."

"Lewes," he corrects her. When she frowns he shrugs. "Ephraim Lewes."

She forces a smile. "Thank you, Ephraim."

"The pleasure's all mine, Mrs. Hawthorne."

He peeks over Madge's shoulder, at the still fuming Briar.

"Night, gorgeous. Stay away from the fence, unless you want those hands of yours fried off."

Briar makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like more swearing as Ephraim chuckles and leaves.

Once the door is shut and locked, Madge turns back and finds Gale has maneuvered Briar to the couch.

She tries to get up a few more times, but she's too exhausted and drowsy with drink to put up much of a fight.

"I'm leavin'," she grumbles before slumping back into the sofa, sniffling as her eyelids droop. "I'm leavin'."

She mumbles a few more times, swears, before finally stilling, snoring softly on Gale's shoulder.

"She's out."

Madge nearly jumps at the sound of Sage's voice. She'd forgotten he was there.

Both he and Daisy had stayed hidden in the hallway, apparently listening in until Briar fell asleep.

Sage glances at the door and then to Gale.

"It's lucky Lew found her and not someone else," he finally says.

Gale nods and brushes a few wild strands from Briar's face.

Silence settles over them, no one quite sure what to say. Daisy shifts uncomfortably, tear stains still on her cheeks as she stares at her sister.

"I should leave," she finally says, nodding in agreement with herself. "I should go."

"No," Gale growls. "No one is going anywhere."

"Dad-"

"You're still a child and until you get married you're staying here."

"I can't stay here," Daisy tells him, voice breaking. "I'm only hurting her."

Madge feels her insides roll.

She's right. For now, one of the girls has to go. Forcing them together isn't going to fix things, not yet.

"Bri can stay with me and Abby," Sage offers. "She needs to cool off and she needs a break from...everything."

And everyone.

"No," Gale shakes his head, eyes still on Briar's face. "I'm not letting her think we're just tossing her out."

"She's drunk," Sage counters. "She's not even going to remember being dragged home."

He looks at Madge.

Briar might be Gale's daughter through and through, but Sage is still her twin. He's been her confidant, her best friend, since the day they were born. They share things with each other that the other kids, and Gale and Madge, aren't privileged to.

It hurts, but he probably knows better than either she or Gale what Briar needs.

"Let me get her some clothes," Madge finally says.

"Madge…"

Looking at Gale, Madge gives him a small smile.

"Sage will take care of her. We can go talk to her in the morning." She walks over, leans in, and whispers, "This isn't picking one over the other. This is giving them both what they need."

Briar needs space, time to figure out how to deal with everything that's happened. She won't want either of them at her elbow, trying to put her back together, until she's ready.

Daisy needs support. She's pregnant and not even out of school, about to be married. Even if her body and the government say she's an adult, she isn't. Her world is about to dramatically change, and there's no way she's prepared for it.

Judging by the way Gale's jaw tightens, his arm stiffens around Briar, he'd like to argue, but then he looks between Daisy and Briar.

He won't admit it, not yet, but he knows she's right.

He finally sighs, nods.

Straightening up, Madge goes to the girls' room and packs a few things in a bag, cinches it up, and takes it back to the living room.

Sage has already picked Briar up, has her cradled in his arms, so Madge carefully places the bag in his hand and kisses his cheek.

"Tell her we love her," she whispers.

Gale presses a kiss to Briar's hair, claps Sage on the back, then opens the door.

And they're gone.

Madge watches as Gale stares at the door for a moment, probably trying to work out just how thing had come to this point, wondering if his daughter will ever come home, before the lock clicks.

He looks at Madge, exhaustion that only watching your children fall apart in front of your eyes can bring on weighing on him.

Did they make the right decision? He seems to want to ask.

If she had an answer, she'd happily give it to him.

A small noise draws them out of their silent conversation.

Behind them, Daisy is crying, eyes red and puffy, focused on the door.

"I'm sorry," she tells them, voice cracking. "I know she doesn't believe me, but I am. I never meant to hurt her."

In two strides Gale is past Madge, pulling Daisy into a hug.

"We know," he mumbles into her hair as she cries harder.

Tears pricking at her eyes, Madge walks over and lets Gale pull her to him.

She wraps her arms around him and Daisy, lets their warmth ease her aching soul.

Closing her eyes, she pretends for a moment things are going to be okay.

She hopes things will be okay.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I'm just playing with Suzanne Collins' characters and her world. They're hers. Not mine. Any lines from the books are hers too.
> 
> AN: Got one more chapter finished before break. Thought I'd end it on a little more hopeful-ish note for the time being.

Gale gets up early and heads to the mines.

He pulls the keys to the shift supervisors' office from his pocket and forces them in the lock, jiggles tether, then shoves the door open.

The office he shares with the two other supervisors is barely the size of his and Madge's bedroom. It's cramped quarters, three old school desks shoved in the corners and a pair of dented and overflowing filing cabinets taking up most of the space.

Sighing, Gale forces the lower drawer open and digs through the front files until he finds the one marked 'Barrows, Rowan'.

Taking it out, he goes to his desk and plops down, flopping the file open and reading through it.

He's got a sterling record, never late, never mouths off, no disciplinary concerns, not a single complaint. There's even a notation that he's up for promotion to crew chief when a spot opens. If he hadn't just destroyed his daughters' relationship, Gale would say he's a good guy.

Right now though, he's just a giant ass.

Tossing the file down, Gale scrubs his hands over face.

How is he supposed to work when his girls are fighting about some idiot?

Well, Briar is fighting. Daisy mostly just cries.

The image of Briar's last smile, Daisy's tear streaked face, are competing in his mind when he hears yelling outside.

Pushing, his worries away, he hurries out the door, certain something has broken down again and one of the men is hurt.

What he finds isn't men trying to rescue an injured friend, but a circle of men shouting.

"You see what happened?" Someone asks him.

Shaking his head, Gale pulls his cap lower on his head and goes to the crowd, pushing his way close enough to see over the men in front of him.

"Goddammit," he swears when he sees what's going on.

One of the men has another one down, his face pushed into the gravel.

Gale curses again when he sees just who is fighting.

"Sage!"

Rory has already pushed through the crowd with Vick and Thom, pulling Sage off Barrows.

Thom whistles as he eyes Barrows growing shiner.

"What'd you do to piss off Sage?" Rory asks, as Vick holds his nephew back, though Sage has stopped struggling and is simply glaring.

"Come on! Everybody get out of here!" Gale shouts as he shoves the men in front of him out of the way, finally getting to his brothers and Sage as the crowd disperses.

"Sage, bud, what has gotten into you?" Rory asks.

Without answering, Sage simply shrugs Vick off, continues glaring at Barrows.

Rory looks at Gale. "Do you know what's going on? Because this is your calm child-I'm a little lost."

"I sat up with her all night," Sage growls, angrier than Gale has ever seen him. "She woke up and cried all night."

Barrows struggles to his feet, blood dripping from his nose.

"Why is she crying?" He asks, wiping his nose, smearing blood across his face. "Did something happen?"

Sage makes a frustrated noise, shakes his head. "No-not her."

Vick frowns. "Not who? Who are we talking about?"

"I feel like I should be mad about something, but I'm not quite sure what yet," Rory mutters to Thom who nods his agreement.

Gale steps past them to Sage, grips him by the shoulder and waits until he drags his eyes from Barrows and looks at him.

The anger evaporates instantly, replaced by weary sadness.

"I thought-I just saw him and-he hurt them both," he shakes his head. "I just thought I ought to hit him at least once."

Gale almost laughs, even though it's not the least bit funny. Barrows hurt his sisters, that's about the one thing that would make calm, quiet Sage angry enough to pummel a man.

"What's happened to Daisy?" Barrows asks again, looking increasingly anxious.

Rory grabs him by the front of his filthy shirt, pulls him within an inch of his face.

He might not know what's happened, but he heard his niece's name, and that's enough to let him know the bastard has done something to one of his girls.

"What're you asking about her for? What did you do? If you hurt her…"

Thom stands up a little straighter, crosses his arms, trying to make himself look more intimidating despite looking no more threatening than a stick bug, as Vick frowns, looks at Gale and Sage.

"What's wrong with Daisy?" He asks, not looking certain he wants the answer.

Gale closes his eyes. There's no avoiding it. They'll have to tell them eventually.

"Daisy...Daisy's pregnant."

Something cracks, and Gale only realizes it's Barrows' nose taking another hit when Sage turns and grabs Vick's arm, keeping him from throwing another punch.

"She's a kid!" He snarls as he pulls a hand free and tries to grab Barrows by the hair. "She's a little girl!"

For half a breath, Gale considers taking a swing at the jackass too. He deserves two black eyes to go with his undoubtedly broken nose, but stops himself. Daisy loves him.

Thom grabs Barrows off the ground, locks his arms behind him.

"Make sure you don't break his hands, we need him to be able to sign papers," Rory tells them as he balls up his fist.

Groaning, Gale grabs Rory. "Stop."

"But-but he…"

"She says she loves him. He asked her to marry him," Gale tells him, eyeing the bloody mess that will soon be his son-in-law.

Vick and Rory deflate.

"Then why...why did Sage say she was crying?" Rory asks, fist still ready.

"She wasn't-well, she was-" Thom tightens his grip as Gale tries to explain "-but not because of him."

Not entirely, anyways.

"Let him go, Thom."

Reluctantly, Thom lets Barrows go, shooting him a dirty look for good measure.

An awkward silence settles over them, punctuated by the sounds of men just arriving, others whispering loudly behind buildings, all making wild conjectures about what had made gentle Sage Hawthorne start a fight.

"Go, get ready," Gale tells his brothers and Thom. "I need to talk to these two."

They all look ready to argue, but none do. They leave quietly, casting filthy looks at Barrows as they go.

"What's wrong with Daisy?" Barrows asks again, once the others are gone. "Why was she crying?"

He looks frantic, and Gale sympathizes with him for a moment. If someone had even implied Madge was crying, maybe hurt, he'd be at their throats, demanding answers.

"Is she okay?" He asks again, blood dripping down his front, though he doesn't seem to notice

"She's fine." Mostly.

"Then wh-"

"Briar," Sage answers simply.

Gale watches as Barrows closes his eyes, then spits blood, shakes his head.

"Briar?" He looks at Sage, one eye swollen shut. "Still?"

Sage nods, expression grim.

Barrows sighs. "I thought Daisy was joking. I thought she just-I figured she was just using that as an excuse-that she was worried you'd be freaked out because I'm older than her."

"That doesn't help," Gale grunts, crossing his arms, setting his future son-in-law in a stern glare. "She isn't even out of school."

"I know," Barrows tells him, wiping some of the blood from his face, smearing it on his pants. "It was an accident."

"I'd hope so," Gale snaps.

Because if he did it on purpose Gale is getting Haymitch and his murderous friends involved. There's no way his baby is staying married to a manipulative pervert.

"I swear." He looks between them. "It was my birthday an-"

Gale cuts him off with a glare. "Don't finish that sentence."

"Please," Sage adds, face pulled in disgust.

Nodding, Barrows spits more blood out before looking back at Sage.

"I thought Briar was over her...thing," he tells him. "I told her-I told her ages ago- she's just a friend. She's one of the guys."

"She's a girl," Gale reminds him, bristling on his daughter's behalf.

Briar is a girl, and a pretty one. If Barrows can't see that he's blind, and not good enough for either of his girls.

"I know but…" he glances off, searching for the right words. "Briar is like a-like a field guide. Daisy, she's a book of poetry, I just-I like poetry, not instructions."

They're just different, and that's no one's fault.

"I thought she was over it," he mutters again.

Gale takes a breath. "Would that have changed anything? Would you have stayed away from Daisy if you knew?"

Barrows stares for a moment, probably wondering just what answer Gale wants.

The problem is, there's no right one.

"I don't know," he finally admits. "She's the best thing about my life, you know? I spend all day in a hole, and then I come up, and I get to see her and it makes it okay...I don't know if I could've passed that up."

It sounds selfish to Gale.

It also sounds like a question he'd asked himself, more than once, over the years.

Each time something happened, someone would get sick or go without, Gale had asked himself if he was selfish to have dragged Madge down with him.

Would he have given up all their happy times to let her have a safe life? No kids, no him, just her parents and him with only the mines and one night stands?

His answer had always been the same.

Even if Madge's life would've been easier, better, his would've been dimmer. He couldn't give her up, as selfish as that was.

He always convinced himself it didn't matter. Madge loved him, their life and kids. She wouldn't trade any of it for safety or ease.

She and the kids were his bright spot, and Gale couldn't have passed them up.

If Daisy is that to Barrows, Gale understand exactly what battle he'd be fighting, and just why he wouldn't fight it.

The first warning bell, calling the men to the elevators, rings out and Barrows looks back toward where several men from his crew are watching curiously.

He turns back to Gale and Sage and sighs. "I have to go." He takes a step then turns back. "I'm sorry about Briar. I am."

Gale nods. He actually believes the asshole.

Barrows takes off, leaving Gale and Sage standing awkwardly in the middle of the yard.

"I need to get to the Corps office," Sage finally mumbles, rubbing his neck.

Gale nods. "Yeah."

Neither of them moves.

"She was up all night crying?"

Sage stuffs his hands in his pockets, nods.

"Off and on." He looks off, in the direction Barrows vanished in. "Why does it have to be so complicated?"

Shrugging, Gale scratches at his stubble. "We aren't all as lucky as you. Not everyone gets it right the first try."

With a chuckle, Sage nods. "Yeah. Some people gotta chase their Katniss Everdeen, I guess."

Gale grimaces. "Told you about that, huh?"

Sage smiles tightly.

"She did." His smile dims. "At least we know where the girls get their poor choices from."

Huffing, Gale crosses his arms again.

He's right, but Gale is hardly going to admit it.

########

Sage's house is further in the Seam, closer to Hazelle's than Madge and Gale's. There'd been no houses in the nicer section for Madge's dad to try to get for him.

It's more rundown, the roof had to be patched and the porch rebuilt, but it's nice. Abilene hasn't complained once that Madge has heard, not about the distance from Town or the state of her new home. She's happy to be with Sage. That's all that matters to her.

Pulling her jacket tighter, Madge steps up onto the porch, knocks on the door.

No one comes, then Madge hears shuffling on the other side of the door.

Slowly it cracks opens and Abilene's blue eyes peek out at her.

"Madge!" She opens the door and ushers her in.

The living room is sparse, a sofa and a ragged rug, but it's clean, warm from the small fire crackling on the hearth.

Abilene pulls her into a hug, the bulge of her belly between them.

She steps back, pats it, smiles softly. "The midwife said everything looks great. Said I have perfect hips for having babies."

Her smile falters.

"You aren't here for a baby update though."

Sighing, Madge shakes her head. "I do appreciate it though."

Knowing that things won't be as bleak for Sage and Abilene as they'd been for Madge each time she'd been pregnant is a relief. One less thing to worry about.

"How is she?"

Abilene's hands settle on her stomach as she glances toward the kitchen. "Angry...angrier than usual, and sad."

Forcing a smile, Madge reaches out and pats her hand before going to the kitchen.

Briar is at the small table, a chipped glass in her hands as she stares out the back window.

She doesn't look at Madge, doesn't even acknowledge her, so Madge sets across from her and waits.

"I don't want to talk," she finally mumbles, taking a drink of what Madge prays is water.

"Okay."

"I'm serious."

"That's fine."

She finally glares at Madge. "Go home, mom."

Folding her arms on the table, Madge shakes her head. "Not yet. Not until you talk to me."

"I told you-"

"You don't want to talk, I heard you," Madge tells her. "I can wait."

She's got nothing but time.

Running her tongue over her teeth, Briars makes a frustrated noise.

"What do you want? Me to apologize to Daisy? I won't." Her eyes shine. "She did this."

Madge nods. "She did. She fell for the wrong guy. She made a mistake."

A moment passes, then another, before Briar takes a shaky breath.

"I've liked him for years, mom," she finally says. "She knew that and she still…"

A few tears trickle down her cheeks, drip onto her dirty shirt.

"I knew he'd never like me, but...I thought I would be okay if it was someone else. Not Daisy though. Why did it have to be Daisy?" She wipes her face on her sleeve. "Why is it always her?"

Madge shrugs. "I used to ask myself the same thing."

Briar snorts. "You're an only child."

Smiling, Madge shrugs. "Everyone has someone better. You think Daisy is yours, and she thinks you're hers."

"Right," she huffs, flopping back and crossing her arms, setting Madge in a dull look.

"She adores you. She's adored you her whole life."

Briar smiles coolly. "Is that why she ignores everything I tell her? Why I can't teach her anything? Why she's nothing like me?"

Madge sighs. It's no good telling her Daisy does try, because she won't believe it. There's no gray area with Briar. The fact that her sister simply has different ways of going about life doesn't make sense to her.

If she weren't so hurt, she might see that for all their differences, Daisy is so much like her, always trying to find a way to compliment her with the skills she does possess.

While Briar hunts, and can make the food edible, Daisy researches spices, ways to make the food worth eating. When Briar brought small pelts home, Daisy cleaned and tanned them, stitched them together, made things for her to trade with at the Hob.

Briar complained Daisy was trying outshine her, even when Madge and Gale tried to tell her Daisy was just trying to help.

Daisy was desperate to not be useless in her eyes, and it only made Briar resent her more.

Tears start prickling at Madge's eyes and she tries to blink them away.

Across from her, Briar's cold expression melts, replaced by a hopelessness Madge recognizes too well.

"I love her. She my sister and I love her, but…" she blinks out a few tears, swats them away weakly. "When she's around...it's like I'm not. She's prettier, and nicer, and smarter, and I'm invisible. And I know she isn't-she doesn't try to do it, but that almost makes it worse. Because that just means-if she's just so damn perfect without trying, what chance do I have?"

Getting up, Madge goes around the table and pulls Briar out of her seat, tight into a hug, trying to think of something to say.

"Sweetheart, you're perfect too, just differently."

Briar snorts. "Not in a way any guy likes."

"Well, boys are stupid sometimes," Madge grumbles, causing Briar to chuckle.

"Like dad, when he was chasing Katniss Everdeen when you were right there?"

Pulling back, Madge tries to smile. Thinking of Gale pining after Katniss, even if it was a lifetime and five kids ago, still stings. Her girls come by their insecurities honest.

"Exactly."

Briar nods, rubs her nose and sniffles.

"I don't wanna come home yet," she finally says. "Sage and Abby said I can stay. I know it's not forever, but...I think Sage likes someone here to help while he's at work, so it seems okay for now."

Forcing a smile, Madge nods.

It's not coming home, but she's not vanishing into the woods, and that's a start.

#######

Madge sends Daisy to Hazelle's after school.

"You need to tell her, then Nona and Papa." She frowned. "And then Mr. Abernathy. He'll never forgive you if he isn't on the list."

Nodding, Daisy forced a smile.

"He's gonna want to kill him."

"He's all talk," Madge told her, taking her face in her hands and pressing a kiss to her forehead. "He'll do what makes you happy."

Madge is proof of that. Otherwise Gale would've vanished the night of their toasting.

"Should we go with her?" Miles asked before she could even get to the door.

Madge shook her head. "She needs to do this."

She needed some normalcy. Going to her grandparents is routine, and after the turbulence of the last day, that's exactly what she needs.

Plus she needs to be anywhere that Briar's absence won't be quite so painful.

Miles and Wren had settled down at the table, pulled out their school work and started to work.

They'd both known for weeks about Daisy's pregnancy.

"Miles caught me crying…" Daisy explained, voice still wobbling. "I just needed someone to know. Someone who wouldn't hate me."

And Miles, despite his age, is her protector. He's stood up for her against everyone since he'd been tall enough. Madge is grateful he wasn't home when Briar had started in on Daisy the night before. The house couldn't handle the fight that would've come up.

Wren had known about her seeing Rowan since the beginning, and had apparently guessed that she was pregnant.

"It was like when Kitty got pregnant," Wren told Madge, when she asked how she'd known. "I just knew."

Miles laughed. "She's got a future in fortune telling. Can you divine the answers to this stupid test next Monday? I have better things to do than study all weekend."

"Not unless you want to be waitlisted for those spots opening up on the corps, you'd better not," Madge warned him before going back to the stove.

Once the stew is simmering, Madge pulls out her knitting and starts on another set of booties. Daisy will need some now too.

"This is the stupidest story I've ever read," Miles grumbles, flipping the page of his battered book.

Frowning, Madge leans over and squints at the faded name across the top of the page.

"Romeo and Juliet?"

"Dumb and dumber," he counters, flopping back in the chair, running a hand through his shaggy curls. "No wonder they named Everdeen and Mellark after them."

Madge sighs. He's so critical. "I doubt anyone in the Capitol has ever read the story."

He nods in agreement.

Wren turns the page in her book and squeals.

"Look mom! It's Mr. Abernathy!" She jabs her finger at the old photo at the top of the page.

Leaning over, Madge inspects the page.

Sure enough, smirking out at her, looking confident and infuriating, is a much younger, much handsomer Mr. Abernathy.

Miles squints over at the picture.

"Ugly bastard, wasn't he?"

"Language," Madge scolds him.

He chuckles. He loves Mr. Abernathy as much as she does, but he loves pestering him, even if he's not around.

Wren looks up at him, clearly ready to defend Mr. Abernathy, but stops. She stares at him for a moment, then her eyes drop back to her book, studying the picture more closely, before looking at Miles again.

She looks at Madge, frowning.

Before Madge can ask her what she's thinking, something wild and fanciful no doubt, the front door opens.

"Dad!" Wren apparently forgets whatever has her so confused, jumps up and runs to Gale before he's even taken his coat off.

Frowning, Madge looks at the clock. She'd lost track of time.

Getting up, she goes to the living room and wraps her arms around him, happy to have his warmth around her. It's easier to pretend things might be okay when he's holding her.

He runs his fingers through her hair, sighing. "You see her?"

Madge nods, holds him tighter.

"She okay?"

Pulling back, Madge tries to smile, keep her tears blinked away. "Not yet, she will be though."

Briar is tough, just like he's always said. It'll take time, more time than either of them would like, but she'll be okay.

Whether she and Daisy will ever get past this, Madge is less certain.

One hurdle at a time, Madge thinks to herself, as Wren pulls Gale away and to the kitchen table, telling him he has to help her with her homework.

"Promise me you're never going to date," she hears Gale say to Wren.

Wren nods, clearly not even listening to him. "Okay."

Going back to the stove, Madge watches out the back window for Daisy to come back, wishing she had a hope of Briar coming home too.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I'm just playing with Suzanne Collins' characters and her world. They're hers. Not mine. Any lines from the books are hers too.
> 
> AN: This chapter took forever and I'm still not 100% happy with it, but...yeah, sorry. Thanks to NurseKelly for putting up with my whining.

Gale spots Briar the minute he steps in the Hob.

She's got her back to him, slouched in one of the rickety chairs in Greasy Sae's place, downing a drink.

He watches her for a minute, wonders if she's even bothered with eating anything before she started drinking for the day.

"She's worse than Mr. Abernathy," Sage told him, after the first week. "I told her she needs to sober up, but she just keeps drinking."

If Sage can't even get her to be reasonable, Gale doubts he'll have much luck, but he has to try. She can't keep going like this.

Taking a breath, preparing for another stony conversation, Gale crosses the Hob.

Briar doesn't even look up when he pulls out the seat across from her, drops into it with a groan.

"How was the wedding?" She asks, voice harsh and eye staying on the grimy cup in her hand.

"Wasn't one," Gale tells her. "The, uh, the computers were down again. Said they have to get someone from the Capitol down to fix them."

Which according to Daniel, won't be for several weeks.

"Our lives aren't their biggest concern," he told them, as if they hadn't already known. Three straight weekends of fritzing computers made it abundantly clear that whether anyone in Twelve needed official documents, housing, or to file claims was not high on the Capitol's list of concerns.

"Tragic," Briar huffs. She holds up her glass and jiggles it. "Hey! Can the pretty, perfect Daisy Hawthorne's sister get another drink?"

Gale starts to hush her when one of the bootleggers comes to the table and tips some more of his home brew into her cup.

"Pretty and perfect and pregnant," Briar repeats as she takes a long drink from her cup.

The man chuckles, takes the coin from her hand. "Yeah, pretty, perfect, pregnant, we heard you, Hawthorne."

Briar points at Gale.

"Get granddad here a drink too."

Gale shakes his head. She's drank enough for the both of them.

"You need to stop," he tells her, voice low. "You want to pickle your liver?"

She smells like Abernathy already, does she want to look like him too?

"Maybe."

"Briar."

She takes another drink, smacks her lips.

"I'm doing what I want. Daisy gets to, why shouldn't I?"

Pressing his fingers to his eyes, Gale takes a long breath. It's like arguing with the sky.

"Doing what you want and making an ass out of yourself are two different things."

She snorts.

"So drinking a little too much is a no, but sleeping around and getting knocked up, that's just fine?"

Grinding his teeth, Gale bites back a snarl.

"You know as well as I do she wasn't sleeping around."

Briar rolls her eyes.

"We didn't even know she was dating him. Maybe she's just been slumming it the whole time and Rowan got blindsided by those big-"

"Stop," Gale cuts her off. "I came to talk to you about getting yourself together, not listen to you insult your sister."

Jealousy is never pretty, but drinking has made it plain ugly on Briar.

"Guess you wasted your time then."

She gets up, but is too tipsy, over corrects and falls back in her seat.

Getting up, Gale tries to pull her up, but she pushes him away.

"I don't need help."

Sighing, Gale watches her struggle to her feet and try to walk, tripping on her feet again, only to be stopped by a pair of large gloves hands.

"You drunk again?" Lew asks as Briar tries to shove him away.

"I'm fine," she grumbles, holding onto a table for support. "I'm not pretty and perfect and pregnant, but I'm fine."

Lew shoots Gale an unimpressed look.

"Right. Down here drowning your sorrows and complaining about that sister." He looks unimpressed and a little wary as he looks around, watches the men in the corner for a moment before sighing. He leans closer and whispers just loud enough for Gale to hear. "You need to watch yourself. You keep running that mouth of yours and bad things are gonna happen."

Briar chuckles, rolls her eyes.

"You gonna take me to the stockades, Lew? Drop me at the drunk tank?"

He frowns, sets her in a disappointed look.

"Not if I don't have to," he answers as she finally finds her footing and pushes past him.

"Piss off."

Gale watches her stagger out, swearing when she stops and buys another bottle from one of the men hanging by the door.

"I'll keep an eye on her," Lew tells him as he wipes something brown and sticky from his uniform. "I'll take her back to Sage's later if she doesn't look like she'll make it."

It's the best that can be done for now. Briar has to burn herself out before they're going to get anywhere with her.

Gale nods, claps him on the shoulder. "Thanks."

According to Sage, Lew has been bringing Briar home most nights, in varying states of drunkenness and in degrees off combativeness.

"She's lucky he likes her," Sage told him. "If it were Jasper or Graves she'd be dead or worse."

Much as Gale hates it that a Peacekeeper is keeping watch over his wayward daughter, it could be worse.

Lew picks up the cup Briar abandoned, takes a sniff, makes a face, and sets it back down.

"You must be some hearty stock. That shits terrible. That's Abernathy's kinda drink."

Gale shrugs. He's not exactly a novice drinker.

Looking over his shoulder, Lew frowns before looking back at Gale.

"She get that sterling wit from you too? Or did she get more than a pretty face from her momma?"

Gale doesn't answer. Even if he's grateful for the protection he's giving Briar, he doesn't owe him answers about her.

"Well, I wish she'd gotten a little sense from one of you," Lew continues, pretending he hasn't been ignored. "Because she's gonna say the wrong thing one of these days and the wrong person'll hear. Briar might not act much like it, but she's the Mayor's grandkid. She needs to rein it in or else bad things are gonna happen."

With that he gives Gale a nod and leaves down the same path Briar had, casting an uneasy glance around as he goes.

A knot forms in Gale's stomach as the door drops shut behind him.

Frowning, Gale sits back down and tries to decide if he was just given a threat or a warning.

#######

Briar comes while Daisy is in school almost every day and takes her things from their room, piece by piece removing herself from the space over the next few weeks after the announcement.

Madge is grateful she at least saves her drinking until after she's visited. From what Sage and Gale have told her it's not a pleasant sight, and Madge doesn't think she can stand to watch her fall apart like that.

She doesn't talk, just grunts a hello and gets to work.

Each visit, Madge watches her silently pick things up, examine them, then seemingly arbitrarily toss some aside. It takes a few visits to realize why she keeps some things and leaves others.

First is the scarf she'd worn since she was eleven, then the rabbit hide case for her knife, several pairs of socks, a few dresses, and a hair ribbon she'd worn exactly once. It isn't until she rips the case from her pillow and drops it on the floor that Madge realizes what she's doing.

They're all things Daisy has made for her.

Daisy knows from the start though. She'd come home and stared at the scarf on the floor by her bed that first day for nearly an hour before she'd picked it up, carefully folded it, and placed it next to the mattress Briar had used as a bed.

She stops crying after the first few days, but Madge thinks it's more for drying up than it is for being done.

"She's never going to forgive me," she says, voice hollow as she sits on the back porch, hemming a pair of Miles' pants. "She's right not to."

They'd been let out of class early. A water line had broken and flooded several classrooms and it had been simpler to let all the kids out early than to release only those affected.

Briar had shown up to gather more of her things as Daisy had walked in, shoes wet, Wren and Miles at her heels.

She hadn't said anything, just glared for a moment before telling Madge she wouldn't be there long. She had 'things' to do.

"She didn't yell at us today, or when we saw her at Nona's the other day," Wren reminds her, snapping the end off one of the beans from last mess of the season. "That's better."

Daisy makes a noise, somewhere between a laugh and a choke, reaches out and tugs Wren's pigtail.

"Thanks."

"It's progress," Madge agrees, forcing a smile for Wren.

Snapping and other bean, Wren looks at Daisy.

"Can we name the baby 'Sawyer'?"

Daisy's mouth twitches up. "What if it's a girl?"

Wren's nose wrinkles up. "Dad said Sage is having a girl."

"So I can't have one too?"

Shrugging, Wren drops the end of her bean in the pot. "Be kinda boring to get two girls, but it can be Sawyer if it's a girl too."

Daisy gives Wren a small smile.

"Sure."

Madge snaps her bean and glances over her shoulder, through the door and to the kitchen.

Miles is sitting at the kitchen table, his sharp eyes on his book, but he's not reading.

He's listening, waiting for Briar to come out of her room and leave.

"I'm not going to the woods until she leaves," he'd told Madge. "I'm not letting her yell at Daisy."

"She won't," Madge assured him.

Yelling is too close to talking and Briar is dead set on never uttering a word to her sister again.

He hadn't believed her and had plopped into his seat and pulled out on of his battered school books instead.

Running a hand through his dark curls, he looks up, eyes narrowed toward the living room.

At first Madge thinks he's heard Briar coming out, but then he frowns, stands up and walks out of the kitchen.

Not wanting a fight, Madge gets up and dusts off her skirt, leaves Daisy and Wren on the porch while she investigates.

She's barely to the break in the kitchen and the living room when Miles grabs her and pulls her behind the wall.

He presses a finger to his lips silently looks around the corner and to the door.

Through the cracked glass of the window beside the door, Madge sees the crisp white of a Peacekeepers uniform and the glint of a gun.

Her heart stops.

Had something happened with Gale and Sage? They were at work, weren't they?

Had they been hurt? Was something wrong at the mines?

There'd been no sirens, she quickly reminds herself, and Peacekeepers aren't used to alert families of catastrophic events. They're bad omens, but not from the mines.

Somehow that's not a comfort.

Squeezing Miles' hand, Madge closes her eyes and waits for the rough knock at the door.

Swallowing the bile rising in her throat, Madge steps around Miles and goes to the door, slowly opens it.

On the other side is Romulus Thread.

He's not as imposing as he's been when he'd first come to Twelve. His stance is hunched now, the remnant of a fall he'd taken during the cold winter when Miles was born, and his hair has thinned, patchy and stunted where it does manage to grow.

His smile is as cold as ever though, and he's every bit as vile as Madge remembers him being all those years ago.

"Mr. Thread." Madge manages to force a smile, keep her voice from cracking. "What a lovely surprise."

His thin lips curl up.

"Miss Undersee." He looks over her shoulder, spotting Miles standing at her back. "I'm sorry, it's Mrs. Hawthorne now, isn't it?"

Madge doesn't let her expression falter. "It has been for over two decades."

And he knows it.

"Of course." His icy eyes trace over her, lingering too long on her chest before drifting back to her face. "I've heard good news about your little family, another addition on the way."

Heart speeding up, Madge nods, wishing Gale were there. Thread had planned this around when he wouldn't be home, she's sure of it. It's a calculated attack.

She also knows he's talking about Daisy, he's angling for something, but she decides to feign ignorance.

"Sage, one of my oldest, his wife is pregnant."

Smile widening, Thread clicks his tongue.

"This really isn't the time for games, Magdalene. You know as well as I do which of your offspring I'm talking about."

When Madge remains silent, he sighs.

"Life in this hovel has dulled you, I'm afraid. Pretend all you like, but you know why I'm here." He chuckles as he spots something over her shoulder. "And there she is, the glowing mother-to-be."

Turning, Madge sees Daisy and Wren have come back in the house, curious what was keeping their mother.

Thread pushes past Madge, followed by two more Peacekeepers.

The taller one, who Madge recognizes as the man who'd brought Briar home weeks before, gives her a sympathetic smile before following Thread into her home.

"You are a pretty little creature, aren't you?" He tells Daisy, reaching out and taking her chin in his hands. "Pretty and perfect."

Daisy steps back, looks at Madge in confusion.

"And also a pity. I'm sure the boys in this district will miss you when you get shipped off to…" he looks over his shoulder, at Briar's friend, "ten, isn't it, Lewes? That is still where they send all the knocked up whores, isn't it? That's where you mother is from, I believe, a short trip for her, wasn't it?"

Lewes doesn't say anything, but his expression tightens, eyes narrow on Thread.

Miles grabs Daisy by the hand, pulls her back and steps between Thread and his sister, his teeth grinding. "Don't talk about my sister like that."

"The truth often hurts." He raises a hand, gestures to the stocky Peacekeeper. "Miss Hawthorne, I'm afraid you have to come with us. You're to be removed to the unwed mothers' home as soon as possible."

"You can't do that!" Briar shouts.

When she'd come out of the bedroom, Madge isn't sure, but she's clearly heard enough.

"Ah, the other Miss Hawthorne. Very good to see you." He gives her an appraising look. "I would think you'd be happy we were here. After all, weren't you the one ranting about how your 'pretty, perfect' sister was also pregnant?"

The color drains from Briars face.

Thread's lips twitch.

"The gentleman arrested last night for bootleg liquor seemed to think the Mayor's granddaughters were at odds over it."

Madge almost groans. The Mayor's grandchild made for a much more impressive arrest than a bootlegger. Thread rarely comes down on those peddling stolen or illegal goods anymore, mostly because he's one of their most frequent customers since his injury, but when he does he's been known to trade time for better offers.

For women, it's easy. For men, it's less simple.

Briar's source of drink had no doubt sold her out to keep himself from the stocks.

"Have you made up?" He asks, eyeing Daisy darkly.

Briar's gray eyes cut to Daisy.

Madge has no doubt that she'd complained about her sister, but she'd clearly never anticipated anyone would be listening, or that it would matter. Despite the time spend at the Justice Building with her grandfather, Briar has yet to learn just how delicate their lives can be.

She's about to get a brutal lesson.

The bag in her hands drops to the floor and rushes between Thread and her brother and sister.

"She's getting married-she'd be married already but the computers were down-you can't take her if she's getting married!"

Her panic is palpable, rolling off her like heat. She shakes her head, gets between Thread and Daisy, as if to physically hold off the threat.

Thread chuckles softly. "I most certainly can. She's not married yet-are you now, child? And intent to marry means very little to the law. I'm sure your mother can explain that to you."

Madge grips the doorframe, certain her knees are going to give out.

The law about unwed mothers and their children, as written, is a mess, up for a thousand interpretations. Her father had told her about a magistrate in Five once manipulating it in order to clear out a community home.

Depending on the person reading the law, the pregnant girl could have the entire gestation to get married, or be taken away with the first missed cycle. Intention to marry or not has nothing to do with any of it, only the fact that it has or has not happened.

"Most Districts give their girls a great deal of leeway," her father told her. "No one is eager to tear apart a family."

No one except Thread apparently.

Madge can't think straight, her heart pounds in her chest as she begins to speak, knowing it'll do no good.

"My father-"

"Won't be able to do anything to help her," Thread cuts her off, an insincere smile playing on his lips. "If I were to wager, I'd say he won't be able to help anyone much longer. If he can't even keep his own grandchildren from breaking our laws of morality, how can the Capitol expect him to uphold any laws?"

It's an echo of what her father had said years before, when she'd so stubbornly not cared if she'd been carted off to another district. It's come back to haunt her finally.

Looking at Thread, old and worn, she feels her breath catch in her chest. He isn't content to be simply the hand of the Capitol anymore, forgotten in a backwater district. He wants to truly be their man.

Her father had suspected it for years, but doubted he'd live to make good on the threat.

"He's not a healthy man, from my sources," he'd told Madge. "I also doubt he has the mind to do any real harm. This district has bored him to dullness. All he does is drink and seek out paid companionship."

Her father had underestimated just how badly the man wanted a new station in life.

Thread didn't need a keen intellect, just a few stupid mistakes had handed him all he needed.

He wants to be mayor, and this is how he plans on fighting his way to that position.

"I won't let you take her," Briar growls, standing her ground between Thread and Daisy. "Whatever your stupid law says."

Thread leers at Briar, then looks down at his wristwatch.

"You'd know the law better, Miss Hawthorne, if you didn't leave work early every day." He looks up, smiling. "Though, once your grandfather is relieved of his office, you'll have to find a new occupation. I'm sure your next 'position' will ensure you see your dear sister again soon."

He tries to take her face in his hand, like he'd done with Daisy's earlier, but Briar slaps his hand away.

"Don't touch me!"

Thread's mouth twists up, and before Madge can even process what's happened, the air is filled with a sickening crack as the back of his hand hits Briars across the face, sending her to the ground.

A livid bruise immediately erupts on Briar's cheek, swelling up as she tries to get to her feet.

He starts to hit her again, but Daisy grabs his arm.

Snarling, he flings her off, sending her falling onto Briar.

Miles jumps at him, but the stocky Peacekeeper catches him, and the two of them fall to the ground, wrestling furiously, knocking into the rocking chair and kicking a hole in the wall.

In a moment of mindless panic, Madge rushes over and grabs the poker from beside the fireplace and raises it up. She doesn't care if she's dragged off, executed, never seen again, she'll kill Thread before she lets him lay another hand on one of her children.

Before she can hit him though, the friendly Peacekeeper's hand wraps around her wrist, keeping her frozen with the poker hoisted overhead.

"Don't," he tells her, his deep voice vibrating through the metal of the poker as she struggles to get away.

Thread laughs.

"You haven't got it in you," he sneers. "Lewes, Basalt, get the girl and come along, I've got a letter to write."

Briar wipes the blood from her nose and gets up, physically blocking Daisy from Thread and the Peacekeepers.

"You aren't taking my sister!"

Thread's hand rises again.

The friendly Peacekeeper drops Madge's arm and catches Thread's before he can hit Briar.

"Lewes!" He snarls.

He's cut off before he can ask just what his subordinate is doing.

Briar's friend hits him across the jaw, sending him stumbling backward, holding his bleeding mouth in pain, cursing loudly.

Lew steps past a stunned Briar and grabs Thread by the neck.

He holds him there for a minute, teeth grinding as Thread snarls and makes attempts to hit him, fight him off. He aims a kick and it hits Briar in the leg instead of its target.

Then something snaps, and Thread finally stills.

The Peacekeeper's eyes widen and his grip loosens, letting Thread collapse to the ground.

Madge stares, unsure what's just happened, when the Peacekeeper fighting with Miles finally gets up, kicking Miles away as he gapes at Thread's limp body.

For a moment no one speaks. They're all too stunned, uncertain of what they've witnessed.

Thread doesn't move. His chest doesn't rise and fall, doesn't twitch, doesn't so much as groan in pain.

He's dead.

Lew looks at Madge, his eye wide in panic. He hadn't meant to kill him, she can tell that much by looking at him. Despite being a Peacekeeper, he doesn't seem brutal, more bored and lonely than anything.

This hadn't been his intent, but it's done all the same.

Briar looks at the unmoving body, then at Lew, the realization of what he's done finally hitting her.

She looks at Daisy, then Miles, searching for something, before shaking her head and looking up at Madge. The frantic worry evaporates as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a cold resolve.

"He tripped."

She turns and stares at the other man, eyes narrowing, voice leaving no room for argument. "He was drinking and he tripped. That's what happened."

When the other man begins shaking, doesn't say anything, Lew finally shakes off his panic and takes a step toward him, reaches out and grabs him by the collar.

"You hear her, Bas? He was drinking and tripped, and that's what happened," he repeats the lie, his grip tightening when the other man glances at Briar, causing him to gasp. "You say any different and there won't be enough left of you to scoop up and send home in a cigar box, hear me?"

The man sputters, nods, and Lew loosens his grip fractionally.

"I'm serious, anyone says you been talking, and I'll cut that tongue of yours right outta your mouth, send you to the Capitol to serve tea and bullshit for the rest of your life, clear?"

How he knows about Avoxes, about the Capitol's use of them, Madge isn't sure. It's hardly common knowledge.

The threats are enough for the boy though, whether he understands it or not. The implication is clear. He's better off dead than in the state Lew described.

He nods furiously, terrified of the giant still holding him.

Lew shoves the man away, points a shaking finger at the door.

"Go, get Winnifred. Tell her the story. Come back with her."

Without question, the man nods and stumbles backward, hand rubbing the pink skin at his throat.

No one speaks for a moment, just stares at Lew's back and down at the unmoving body crumpled in the middle of the living room.

Madge barely notices as Lew turns, takes the poker from her hand and sets it back at the fireplace. There's too many worries racing through her mind to pay him any mind.

There's going to be an investigation. They'll all be questioned. Briar's story is flimsy at best, ridiculously transparent at worst.

They need a better explanation. Something more believable, plausible, a reason for him to be there in the first place. Briar had set out a foundation, but there's more. Madge needs to think, her children need her to think, she has to think her way out of this mess or-

"Mrs. Hawthorne? You okay?" Lew asks, a hand on her shoulder, his expression tight with concern.

"Mom?" Miles leaves Daisy and Briar, where he'd been inspecting them for injury, hurries to Madge. "Mom, breath."

A shaking hand covering her mouth, Madge takes a ragged breath.

Before her knees buckle, someone gets her to the couch, gently sets her down.

"Mom?"

"Mom…"

"Mom!"

It isn't until she sees Wren out the corner of her eye, wide eyes on Thread's body that she finds her voice.

"Wren!"

She'd disappeared during the fight, probably somewhere in the kitchen, until she'd heard the yelling stop.

"I just wanna look," Wren mumbles, eyes still on Thread. She turns her gaze to Lew. "You killed him. You killed him so he wouldn't hit Briar again."

Lew's cheeks darken as he glances at Briar and Daisy, forces a smile that's more like a grimace.

"No, I hit him-I hit him 'cause a man isn't supposed to hit ladies like that," he tells her, nodding after in agreement. He makes a face, clearly considering his next words. "I killed him for talking disrespectfully about my mom."

Miles looks at Thread and then at Lew.

"I'd call you a momma's boy, but I like my face."

A little smile ticks up on Lew's face.

It fades when Madge stands, crosses the room to her daughters.

"Are you okay?" She asks them.

Other than the bruising, some blood and swelling, Briar seems fine, but she could lose a limb and refuse to admit it hurt. Daisy is paler than usual, her ponytail half undone, but seems uninjured.

Briar nods, gingerly touching her swollen cheek, and Daisy mumbles an 'I'm fine' before hurrying to the kitchen, reappearing with a rag that she hands to Briar.

For a moment Briar stares at it, as if it were a foreign object, then glances up at Daisy.

Madge can almost see her mind going over the last few weeks, taking things and leaving others, all the harsh words she said, all the anger she's boiled over with…

In one heated moment she'd nearly cost herself her sister.

As furious and hurt as she is, she doesn't hate Daisy.

A breath shudders in Briar's chest and tears start trickling out her eyes.

"Dais-Daisy, I'm sorry," she stumbles over her words, voice thick and broken. "I didn't know they'd try-I didn't want them to take you…"

Daisy's chin quivers and she nods. "It's oka-"

"No it's not," Briar cuts her off, wiping tears from her unbruised cheek. "They could've-"

"But they didn't," Daisy gently reminds her. "Nothing happened."

Miles makes a face, looks at Thread's body, then shrugs.

Apparently a death is 'nothing' to them, but as it was Thread and he'd been very lewdly threatened her children and assaulting Briar, Madge can't muster much concern.

The stocky Peacekeeper comes running back through the door, pink faced and huffing, followed by a tall woman in a Peacekeeper uniform.

She steps over the threshold, looks at Thread's body, then sighs.

"Drinking again, huh?" She gives the body a little kick with her boot, not appearing terribly upset by the loss. "Why couldn't he have died in a wheelbarrow? Make this easier on us?"

Lew shrugs, doesn't meet her eyes as he nods.

She doesn't ask why Thread had been in the house, and Madge gets the distinct impression she wouldn't care even if she were told the truth. Thread's death is little more than an inconvenience to her.

"You're filing this paperwork," she tells Lew before popping her back. "Help me get him outside."

The three Peacekeepers pick Thread up, carry him out the front door, taking little care in keeping from banging his head on the frame on the way out.

They toss him on what looks to be a dirty bed sheet, then start to drag him away, losing one of his boots in the process.

Lew runs back, up the steps and looks into through the door.

He gives Madge a small smile, as much as she's sure he can muster to reassure her, then jogs back to the other Peacekeepers, snatching up the lost boot as he goes.

She watches them go, profiles shrinking in the distance, certain they'll rush back at any moment. They don't.

Their figures vanish from her vision after a moment, leaving nothing but an uneasy feeling behind.

Looking away from the door Madge finds Briar clinging to Daisy, her face pressed into her shoulder as she silently shakes, tears soaking through the material of Daisy's dress.

Wren has wrapped herself around Briar's back, her cheek pressed to her sister's middle. Miles is at their side, his arms stretched around them, his dark curls falling over Daisy's pale hair where his head is resting on hers.

He looks up, gives Madge a weak smile, then motions for her to come to him.

Wiping her face, Madge feels tears she hadn't even known she was crying.

Taking a ragged breath, Madge crosses the room, lets Miles tuck her into their hug.

Sighing, she closes her eyes.

They're going to be okay.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I'm just playing with Suzanne Collins' characters and her world. They're hers. Not mine. Any lines from the books are hers too.
> 
> AN: I wanted this arc over, but it's probably got another chapter to it. Sorry y'all.

Gale watches as Briar picks up the small turkey she's just killed, inspects it with a smile.

"I've traded enough squirrel this week, we should be able to keep this."

Nodding, Gale watches as she gently places it in her game bag, rambling on about trades she can make for berry preserves or thread.

She's been almost obsessively trading the past few months, gathering up things for the winter.

Berries and heavy material, peppermint for tea, anything she's read will help Daisy through the pregnancy.

It's her way of apologizing for the weeks she spent crying, calling her sister every filthy thing she could think of, and drinking herself into a disaster. She's not good with words sometimes, something Gale understands all too well, and he thinks she's doing an admirable job making things up to Daisy in her own way.

Thread's visit, and his less than graceful exit, had left her with a bruised face and a healthy dose of understanding.

She'd gone to the Justice hall the next morning, sat down and figured out how to fix the computers without the Capitol's help, only library books and fear to guide her.

When she came home that evening she'd announced Daisy and Barrows would be married first thing the next Sunday. She'd even gotten the little old ladies to open the department early for the occasion.

Judging by the sulky looks they'd shot her as she'd overseen their work, they didn't appreciate her brand of encouragement to get them doing their job.

"I don't think she ever realized just how fragile we are," Madge had whispered, pressed tight against him in their bed that night. "I hate seeing her wound up, but at least now she understands."

They aren't safe for being related to the Mayor. If anything, they're more vulnerable.

Gale only sighed, remembering how Madge had looked when he'd gotten home, the day Thread died

She'd met him on the front porch, eyes pink and swollen, thrown her arms around him the minute he was up the steps. He'd gotten the feeling she'd have liked to run out to him, but the fact that there were probably eyes on them froze her in place. Even if their children hadn't understood until that point, Madge knew what appearances meant, and she wasn't going to fall apart in the yard.

"I need you to listen," she'd whispered, her lips pressed to his ear. "Let me tell you everything before you start asking questions."

Gale had tensed at that, held her tighter as he glanced around, searching for whatever danger was lurking.

He was a little late.

"That bastard," he'd growled as he'd looked at Briar's cheek, still swollen and painful, then at the bust on Miles' lip from his scuffle with the Peacekeeper. If he were alive, Gale would kill him, and much less quickly. The man deserved pain for touching his children. "He wouldn't've come here if I-"

"He was threatening Papa," Briar pointed out. "I don't think you being here would've made much difference."

Much as he wishes she were wrong, Gale is sure she isn't. He would've been about as much help as Miles and Briar had been. Thread was there to make a statement, and no miner was going to change that.

Wren gave him a much more colorful commentary on the events, with her own unique interpretations of Lew's actions.

"He killed him for Briar," she'd explained. "'Cause he loves her."

"Wren…" Briar sighed. "Lew is a good guy. He'd done it for anyone."

While Gale didn't doubt that, he's seen Lew ignore plenty, he was hardly a guy angling for a better position with the Peacekeepers, he also got the feeling Wren wasn't entirely wrong. Briar has gotten more leeway with Lew than she deserves, more than most get, and Gale doubts it's simply because he's a 'good guy'.

He's seen the looks Lew gives Briar, and they aren't just friendly.

Briar either doesn't see them, or is doing a spectacular job of ignoring them.

Being his daughter, Gale assumes she's blind. He'd been oblivious to Madge for years.

Not oblivious, he thinks wearily, just afraid. Madge hadn't escaped his notice as much as he pretended, but she was the Mayor's perfect daughter and he was a minor. Ignoring her, or pretending she was beneath his notice, was safe. He'd had enough hurt for a lifetime.

That had come back to bite him in glorious fashion, and nearly cost him Madge and his life with her.

Gale isn't sure he wants Briar to stop ignoring Lew, or being ignorant. Even if it's clear he'd do anything for her, Gale isn't sure about him. If he's capable of killing Thread so easily, what if he got angry with Briar? He's no tiny man, and Gale knows his daughter's personality and temperament.

It'd be an easy enough thing for her to rile him up, and then what?

Lew seems like an easy-going enough guy, but Gale's interactions with him have been short and simple. Trade a few goods, discuss the weather, go their separate ways.

Much as he appreciates what he's done for them, Gale would like to keep any Peacekeeper eyeing his daughter at arm's length, especially when his temper is in question.

"-maybe I can get some yarn too, so mom can finish that blanket for Jessamine," Briar finishes as the fence comes into view.

Gale chuckles, imagining the newest member of the family.

The baby had come a few weeks earlier than they'd expected, which poor Abilene probably appreciated. She'd expanded miserably over the month prior to the delivery.

"Glad it wasn't over the summer," she'd laughed as she'd waddled into the living room to greet them the next day. "I don't know if I'd made it."

Jessamine is, in Gale's opinion, perfect.

Dark hair and big blue eyes, she gurgled and giggled, spit up all over Abernathy the first time he held her. Perfect.

"I think your mom said she had enough yarn," Gale tells her, holding the lower wire up for her to crawl under.

"We still need to make one for Scout," she reminds him.

Crawling under the fence, Gale laughs.

"You're fighting a losing battle."

Wren is convinced Daisy is having a boy, and she's dead set on Sawyer. Briar is certain it's a girl, and decided on Scout. Somehow, Gale thinks Wren is going to get her way with the name no matter what Daisy has. She's uncannily like her Nona Matilda in getting what she wants.

Not that Briar will care. She's dead set on being the best aunt possible no matter what the baby is or who names it.

Gale is happy for her change of heart, despite how it had come about.

Daisy is still very much a child, and she's going to need all the help she can get.

"She's so tiny," Daisy murmured when she held Jessamine the first time. "I forgot how little they are."

She'd been very quiet after that, no doubt because Wren had pointed out that, as small as the baby was, Daisy was much smaller than Abilene.

Even a small baby was going to be a strain for her, a thought that had started waking Gale up at all hours of the night.

"I keep remembering you lying there, all that blood, thinking you were dy-"

Madge cut him off with a kiss, pressed her forehead to his and sighed.

"She's going to be fine," she murmured, pressing another kiss to his lips and letting it linger.

She was trying to distract him from his worries, worries he knows she has too, and doing a damn fine job of it.

Most nights he lets her. He's sure she needs the distraction too. Other nights though, his memories of her pale and cool and on the cusp of death overwhelm him. All he can do on those nights is hold her, be grateful he didn't lose her.

Shaking his thoughts away, he and Briar come up on the house assigned to Daisy and Barrows.

It's on the same street at Sage's, much to Gale's relief.

"If anything happens, go to your brother's," Gale told her as he hugged her goodbye after the toasting.

She'd looked impossibly young, a little girl playing house, and Gale hadn't wanted to leave her. It wasn't right. Daisy was a child with no business being married, much less pregnant.

"I know," she'd whispered back, squeezing him tight. "Dad, I'll be fine. Between you and Mr. Abernathy I don't know who wants me out of this house more."

It was less wanting her out of that house and more wanting her home, but Gale bit his tongue.

So he'd left her there, reluctantly, listening for the front door to open all night, hoping she'd come home.

She didn't.

Gale and Madge checked on her the next day, and the next, for the first few weeks. Gale kept expecting to find her hurt, in tears, begging them to take her home, but Daisy had answered the door each day smiling, glowing.

Rowan fixed the roof the first day, managed to trade for a rough looking cradle a few weeks in, got Daisy a new pair of boots when hers stopped fitting, encouraged her to continue with school, is only ever polite and respectful with his new in-laws…

Much as Gale tries to find fault in the bastard, he can't.

He's apparently an attentive, loving, and kind husband.

For some reason that grinds Gale more than if he were a jerk.

Annoyed at yet another attempt to find something really damning about his son-in-law, Gale waits with Briar on the front porch after she knocks.

Soft footsteps preceded the clicking of locks, then the door cracks open and Daisy smiles out at them.

"Hurry, get in it's cold," she tells them as she ushers them into the warmth of the living room.

It's small, awkwardly shaped, but meticulously clean and bright, clearly a happy place.

Daisy has placed a few of Wren's drawings on the wall as decoration, in frames Barrow's made for them. Miles and Sage had spent an afternoon making her a couch from discarded wood at the mines, and draped across it is a quilt Madge made years ago. It's frayed at the edges, but still warm looking.

Her house is a home, despite Gale's thoughts on the matter, that the only home she needed was the one with her family.

Briar reaches in her game bag and pulls out a rabbit.

It's skinny, but it'll do, and Daisy will be able to use the pelt.

Taking it, Daisy smiles and gestures to the kitchen.

"I have the squirrel ready, if you want some."

"You need to eat that," Briar tells her. She points to the bulge hidden under Daisy's layers of clothing. "You need all the food you can get."

Smiling weakly, Daisy nods, looks at Gale.

"You eat it," he echoes Briar. Glancing around, he frowns. "Where's Barrows?"

Normally he's home, encouraging Daisy to rest, eat, obnoxiously doting on her.

He's suspiciously absent today.

Resting her hands on the swell of her stomach, Daisy's eyes drop.

"His mom's place. She's getting worse."

Grimacing, Gale nods in understanding.

Pressley Barrows has apparently been ill for a few years. It's no wonder either.

Her husband and little girl had died during the hard winter when Miles was born, then she'd lost the baby she was pregnant with at the time, and her mother had died that next summer. Her own health had steadily declined since then.

She only has her son, and now he's grown, married, and expecting. Maybe she's just giving up finally.

It's a grim thought, but not unrealistic.

"I'll stay with you until he gets home," Briar tells her, tossing her bag away and shrugging off her coat before Daisy can tell her no. "You don't need to be here by yourself."

"I'm fine."

"You're-"

"Pregnant, not helpless."

She looks at Gale for support.

While he hardly thinks she's helpless, he doesn't like the idea of her home alone. She's far enough along that if she started cramping or bleeding, it would be a disaster.

During the day she's at school, the afternoons with Madge, evenings are supposed to be Barrows' time, but if he isn't around, Briar is a good replacement.

When Gale only smiles, silently agreeing with Briar she should stay, Daisy sighs.

"Fine, then you're eating." She brightens. "I made rolls."

#######

Gale stays until Briar is on her fourth roll, encouraging Daisy to drink more water.

"It's supposed to help."

"I'm already peeing every five minutes, Bri, I think I'm drinking enough," she complained, but drank another two glass all the same.

Briar snorted. "Well don't get pregnant and it won't be an issue."

Daisy brought out the hides from the squirrels after that, took Briar's boots and began chattering about lining them.

She's been making her amends the best way she knows how, repaying every kindness Briar shows her as best she can.

It only serves to highlight just how alike they are, even if they can't see it.

Re-lining her coat, making her new gloves, repairing every article of clothing in the closet, making sure to have fresh rolls ready when Briar is coming by, and not fussing too much when she's given advice over her pregnancy, of which Briar has plenty. Gale thinks Vick is probably beside himself with how much Briar has learned about pregnancy.

She'd read so much that when Abilene went into labor and the midwife was nowhere to be found, Briar had stepped in and delivered Jessamine.

"That was as disgusting as it sounded," she'd grumbled. "I'm never having children."

Chuckling at the memory, Gale hugged Daisy goodbye, kissed her forehead, and told Briar he'd see her later.

"Be careful," he warned her, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

She rolled her eyes. "I will."

Trudging through the cold, Gale speeds up when he spots home, windows bright with firelight and a curl of smoke from the chimney.

Knocking the dirt from his boots, he goes in, smiling when he smells stew cooking and hears Madge banging around the kitchen.

She hasn't heard him come in, so he quietly takes off his boots and sneaks into the kitchen.

Her back is to him as she stirs the stew, humming happily to herself as she scoops a small portion and tastes it, shakes her head and mutters to herself before reaching over and grabbing some of her dried herbs and tossing them in.

Gale leans against the entry wall as he watches her, smiling each time she taste tests the stew and finds it deficient, huffing and adding something new to the mix.

Finally, Gale silently goes up behind her and slips his arms around her middle, causing her to squeal when he presses a scratchy kiss to her cheek.

"Gale!" She wiggles enough in his arms to shoot him a look, trying and failing to seem annoyed. "You scared the life out of me."

Grunting, Gale trails kisses up her neck, letting one hand wander under the hem of her shirt.

"Kids gone?"

Madge leans back into him, tilts her head and chuckles.

"They're with my parents. Mr. Abernathy brought hot chocolate home for my mom and took them to have some."

Fingers toying with the band on her skirt, Gale nips at her shoulder.

"Briar is staying with Daisy until Barrows gets home."

Which means they have a few hours before they'll need to be ready to dinner. What can they do for a few hou-

"Where's Rowan?" Madge asks, turning in Gale's arms, expression tight with worry.

Annoyed that she's focusing on the wrong thing, Gale sighs, presses his body more closely to hers.

"He's at his mom's."

Madge's cool hands wrap around his, stopping his progress as she frowns up at him.

"Is she worse?"

Gale shrugs. "Must be."

But there's nothing they can do about it.

Eyes dropping, Madge sighs as she wraps her arms around Gale, cheek pressed to his chest.

"We've gotten so lucky."

Resting his chin on her head, Gale nods, his thoughts shifting.

Life in the Seam could've easily taken either one of them, five children offered plenty of chances for a loss, things could've gone bad so easily. Lucky barely covers how easily they've gotten off.

Thinking of his mother, a widow too soon, and Pressley Barrows, losing a husband, two children, and her mother in less than a year, Gale holds Madge tighter.

Closing his eyes, he sees her pale, breathing shallow, half dead, but it isn't her, it's Daisy.

They've been so lucky.

What if their luck has finally run out?

#######

Wren comes running in the door less than half an hour later, making Gale begrudgingly relieved he hadn't gotten his way in wheedling Madge into bed.

Miles follow after, hair pulled back, eyes watering from the cool wind.

"It's getting colder," he tells them as he pulls a small pair of hats from his bag. "Nona sent these with me. For Jessamine and Sawyer."

Madge picks up the tiny stocking caps and smiles.

They're lumpy, but fuzzy, they'll keep the babies warm. Her mom had done a better job at them than the one she'd made Gale when she was first learning.

Though he doubts Jessamine will be able to wear hers long. She's inherited a bit of a large head, which Gale blames entirely on the Mellark side.

"Her head is perfectly normal," Madge had told him when he'd pointed it out.

"It's a little big," Wren agreed with a whisper, nose wrinkled up.

Taking the hats from Gale, Madge smiles. "Now I just need to get the blankets finished."

They've barely sat down when the door opens again and Briar blows in.

"I made stew," Madge tells her unnecessarily, the scent is a dead giveaway. "And I made rolls for you."

Kicking off her boots and hanging her jacket, Briar carries her game bag to the kitchen and pulls the turkey out.

"Good day then," Madge says, eyeing the limp creature now residing on her cabinet.

Briar shrugs. "It was okay."

Snatching up a roll, she takes a bite out of it before crossing her arms and leaning against the counter, watches Madge ladle out some stew for her before speaking

"The turkey should be enough for us to have everyone over," she says.

Madge sets down the bowl. "Tomorrow?"

Briar nods. "Daisy said she was okay with it. I can tell Abilene before work tomorrow."

She sits with a plop, elbows to the table, and begins eating. Apparently Daisy hadn't gotten any dinner down her.

Wren grabs Gale's sleeve and makes an excited noise.

"We can have Ephraim over too!"

Gale stares at her, spoon halfway to his mouth. What the hell is an 'Ephraim'.

"He needs to have dinner with us," she adds.

Another boy, great. Hadn't Gale suffered enough damn boys recently?

Madge grimaces. "We do owe him…"

Though judging by her expression, dinner is hardly enough.

"Who's Ephraim?" Gale finally asks, certain he's missed something.

"Lew," Briar answers sharply before rolling her eyes. "He doesn't need to come to dinner, mom."

"Yes, he does," Wren tells her. "We can make him rolls, I bet he likes them."

"If you tell him Briar likes them he will," Miles snickers.

Shooting Miles a dirty look, Briar growls, "Shut up."

"He made Thread 'trip and fall' for you," Wren adds, oblivious to Briar's darkening color. "We owe him dinner."

It's the least they can do, if Madge's expression is anything to judge by.

Gale supposed he's been lucky, with Lew in the months since Thread died. Nothing has changed in their interactions, which Gale appreciates.

There'd been a silent agreement to just ignore what had happened. Gale would very much like to keep doing that.

Enough time has passed though. He supposes he's going to have to pay his due at some point.

Dinner is as good a starting point as any. The ramps he'd asked for seem paltry for what he'd done, even if Gale is suspicious of his motivation.

"I'll invite him," he grumbles.

"No," Briar mutters, slumping lower, closer to her stew. "I'll ask him tomorrow when I see him at the Hob."

Wren shakes her head. "Momma can ask him when he comes by for his socks."

Gale looks up, frowning at Madge as she avoids his concerned look.

"Socks?" Briar asks. "Why do you have his socks?"

Madge blows on her spoon of stew, shrugs. "He's been coming by and checking on us, and I offered to help him with some tears in his uniform. I've been helping him with some darning. His socks were awful."

Briar scowls. "He didn't tell me anything about it."

"Was there a reason to?" Madge asks. "I'm just helping him. He's a nice boy."

And she felt she owed him. Madge was paying her debt with kindness.

Gale understands it, but he doesn't like it. He especially doesn't like that a Peacekeeper has been keeping an eye on his family without his knowing.

"You should've told me," he mumbles, just loud enough for her to hear.

She simply smiles, gives his knee a squeeze.

"And worry you?" She shakes her head. "I know what I'm doing."

He doesn't doubt that. Madge knows how to navigate the weird avenues of social debts better than he ever will, better than most people, but he still doesn't like it.

"He brings me and Daisy candy from the sweet shop," Wren adds.

"Never brings me any though," Miles grumbles, trying to look annoyed.

"You're in the woods."

"He could leave me some."

They debate the finer points of candy courtesy as Briar silently finishes her stew, then excuses herself, and Gale and Madge clear the table.

Once they've finally decided that not bringing Miles candy is, at the very least, rude, not that Miles genuinely cares, they finally go to bed, and Gale gets a chance to voice his worries.

"He was just worried about us after what happened," Madge assures him. "It was sweet."

"It's stalking."

Madge crawls into the bed and curls around him, her cheek to his chest.

"He only kept coming back because I invited him," she adds. "I think he's lonely."

"He's got all his Peacekeeper friends," Gale grumbles. "He can hang out with them if he's feeling lonesome."

Madge tilts her head up, smiles sadly.

"That's like saying that I'm from Twelve, I should just hang out with other people from Twelve."

Gale frowns. "You don't really have much of a choice…"

Her eyes roll. "You know what I mean. He's not even from Two like most of them. His aunt got him into the program to keep him safe."

Gale grunts, tightens his arms around her.

She's probably right, but it still makes him uneasy.

"Don't pout," she gently warns him.

Huffing, Gale mutters, "Not pouting."

Laughing, Madge leans up kisses him, first on his rough cheek, then his neck, before finally pressing several long, lingering ones to his lips.

"Still pouty?"

He was not pouting. He was frustrated she was being uncharacteristically reckless.

When he doesn't respond she nips at his lip again and Gale growls, rolls and pins her between him and the bed, causing her to squeal in surprise.

"I take it that you forgive me for making a friend?" She asks between kisses.

Gale makes a positive noise, inches her nightgown up.

He can't stay mad at her.

"You make a compelling argument," he breathlessly tells her as his hands squeeze their way up her thighs.

"Compelling argument?" She snorts. "Gale-"

He cuts her off with more kissing, pulls the gown off and tosses it away.

She's probably right. They can discuss it later, when his mind isn't so distracted.

#######

Madge bounces Jessamine up and down, causing the baby to gurgle happily.

She's a happy baby, reminds Madge of Wren when she'd been tiny and new.

Frowning, Madge inspects her head. It isn't too big, Gale is being ridiculous.

"Do you think the turkey is done?" Daisy asks, opening the oven door and sniffing, drawing Madge's attention from her granddaughter's head.

The aroma is wonderful, fills the kitchen, even draws Wren in from the living room.

"I think so," Madge tells her, handing the baby back to Abilene. "And the others will be back soon."

Gale, Briar, Sage, and Miles had left early that morning for the woods, when Madge had put the turkey in.

Daisy had come a few hours later, carrying Jessamine for Abilene, with the news Rowan wouldn't be there until later.

"His mom is getting worse," she told Madge, eyes pink and puffy. "The healer thinks she's going soon."

It sounds cruel, but Madge thinks it's for the best.

Pressley has had more than her fair share of pain and suffering. Death will be a relief for her, Madge thinks.

There's a knock at the door that draws her from her worries about Pressley Barrows.

It's gentle, so familiar now that Madge smiles as she goes to answer it.

"I guess you got out of evening duty then?" She asks as she opens the door.

Ephraim shrugs, smoothes back his wiry hair, and gives her a small smile.

"Yeah...I just threatened Bas. He's kinda terrified of me now."

Laughing, Madge lets him in.

He's not wearing his uniform, making him look younger than he ever has. His hair isn't pulled back, but down, wiry and thick, and his expression is a bit anxious.

"I don't know, Mrs. Hawthorne," he'd said when she asked him to dinner. "I don't think Briar or your husband will like that very much."

Madge smiled. "They know I'm asking you, and they're fine with it."

He'd given her an appraising look, shook his head. "You're more dangerous than half the men in this district, aren't you?"

"I just know my family."

And she knows how to get what she wants from them.

Briar wasn't half as opposed to Ephraim coming to dinner as she pretended to be, and Gale could be persuaded.

"He's just a friend," Briar insisted, every time Madge asked about him. "He's nice. He's friendly. He-"

"Very obviously likes you," Madge laughed.

"He shouldn't," was Briar's only response.

She's afraid of getting burned again, Madge can sense it, and she understands. This mess with Rowan is too fresh, too raw, for her to even consider thinking about moving on.

Gale had felt the same way after Katniss. He'd done things he's not proud of over it.

Madge supposes she should be grateful Briar hasn't followed in his footsteps that closely.

She just hopes she doesn't close herself off and never open up again.

In the meantime, Madge does like Ephraim, and genuinely thinks it'll do him good to spend time with them. Besides, it never hurts to have a friend in the Peacekeepers.

"Ephraim!" Wren shouts when she spots him, rushing out and grinning. "You look different."

He shrugs, grins. "I showered."

"You should do that more often."

"I'll take that into consideration."

Taking his hand, she drags him into the kitchen, telling him about Jessamine as they go.

"She's not much fun," she admits, once she's seated him, shooting the baby a bored look. "All she does is cry, and eat, and poop, and sleep. Goat does more than that."

"I think that's all they're supposed to do," Ephraim points out

"That doesn't make her any less boring."

"You were a baby once, be nice," Daisy reminds her.

Wren looks unimpressed. "But I'm not anymore."

"Are you trash talking my kid again?" Sage asks as he appears in the doorway, smiling as Abilene gets up and kisses him, passes the baby into his arms.

"I'm describing her," Wren tells him simply. "Don't worry. She'll be interesting someday. Hopefully."

Sage rolls his eyes and leans down, kisses the top of Wren's head.

"What a relief."

He bounces Jessamine and laughs as she grabs for his nose, kisses her tiny fingers.

"She's perfect," he'd told Madge as he cradled the baby that first day, gently passing her to Madge. "She's terrifying."

Madge laughed, kissed his cheek.

"I feel like I'm going to break her."

"You won't," she promised. "Kids are a lot more resilient than you think."

He'd looked dubious, but nodded all the same.

Watching him now, months into Jessamine's young life, she thinks he understands a little better. He's not going to be a perfect dad, but that won't ruin his daughter.

"Give her here," Gale tells him, taking the baby before Sage even has the chance to pass her off.

"How's my sweet girl?" He asks as Jessamine gurgles happily, lets him smother her in kisses.

Reaching out, Sage claps Ephraim on the shoulder, drops into the seat beside him.

"Got roped into dinner, huh?"

Ephraim laughs, settles back in his seat and shrugs. "You never eaten barrack food. Doesn't take much roping."

They settle into a low conversation, discussing the mines and Sage's job with the corps as Briar plops into the seat across from them, pretending not to care as she begins eating a roll.

Daisy vanishes, appearing minutes later with Rowan, hands twined together.

His expression is grim, but he manages a smile.

He's a good boy, a bit clueless at times, but he loves Daisy.

"I won't hurt her," he'd promised both her and Gale, the night before the wedding. "I know you hate me for not realizing-for thinking Briar was okay with being friends, but I promise you, I love Daisy. I'll do whatever I have to for her, for the baby."

And he's done his very best to keep that promise.

Daisy never goes hungry, even without Briar she'd be better fed than most in the Seam. Rowan makes sure she stays warm and dry, listens to every ounce of advice he's given about what he needs for when the baby comes, started bringing Daisy books from the library when she got too far along to go on her own.

He may not have been the best friend to Briar, but he's been a good husband so far.

"He better be," Rory grumbles when Madge mentioned it. "I see so much as a scratch on Daisy and I'll have Lew help me dump his body in a stone grinder."

Madge doubts it'll ever come to that, but she supposed it's the thought that counts.

Watching as Gale reluctantly hands Jessamine off to Miles, Madge smiles as he comes over to the turkey.

"You want me to carve it up?"

Madge nods. Even after all these years, there's something about cutting up a poor animal she doesn't care for.

Reaching for the knife, Gale pulls the turkey toward him, tasting a sliver and making a satisfied noise.

Laughing, Madge turns and looks at the table.

Daisy has settled in beside Briar, taken her sister's hand and placed it on the swell of her belly, laughing when Briar's nose wrinkles.

"That's weird." Madge hears her mutter. "I'm never having kids."

Rolling her eyes, Madge looks past Sage and Ephraim, to Miles, now holding Jessamine up to Rowan's face as Abilene laughs. Apparently her diaper is dirty.

Sighing, Madge leans into Gale, rests her head against his shoulder.

Things aren't perfect, but they're getting better.

They've been so lucky, luckier than they probably know.

Maybe their luck hasn't run out quite yet.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I'm just playing with Suzanne Collins' characters and her world. They're hers. Not mine. Any lines from the books are hers too.
> 
> AN: Adding warnings for deaths, and apologizing in advance. Thanks to NurseKelly for putting up with my bellyaching over this story.

Madge waits at the bottom of the steps with Briar as Daisy slowly makes her way off the porch.

The last month of her pregnancy has been rough, to say the least.

Dizzy spells, back pain, and swelling, she'd grown so big so quickly the midwife said her body simply wasn't keeping up.

"Some people just aren't built for having babies," she'd told her, echoing the sentiment Madge's old, long dead, midwife had told her. It's not comforting, nor does she think it's supposed to be.

Gale's constant worrying grows more and more justified with each passing day, and Madge does all she can to shake it off. She'd been smaller than Daisy when she got pregnant, and as hard as the delivery was, she'd survived and had three more, quite uneventful pregnancies.

Daisy is sturdier than she ever was, a little taller, and she's got Gale's genes. She'll be fine.

At least that's what she keeps telling herself.

"That midwife is an idiot," had been Briar's assessment of the situation as she'd studied her library books harder, determined to be prepared when her newest niece or nephew made their appearance.

Today, at least, Daisy is having a good day.

She's smiling, a bit winded, but eager to go for a walk, and Madge and Briar are willing and available to go with her on one.

"Just down to Sage's," Briar reminds her as they finally, slowly, start the journey.

Daisy nods, smiling as they maneuver around muddy puddles and scattered garbage, the remnants of a storm that had blown through the night before.

It had cleaned the air, and eased some worries.

The winter had been dry. More than a few fires had sprung up from careless fires and sparks from machinery at the mines. They'd all been minor, thankfully, but in the Seam there was always the potential for disaster.

A few old women sitting on their porches call out to Daisy, inquiring about how long she has left and wishing her luck.

When they finally make it to Sage's Daisy is winded, sweating and pink in the face, so she sits on the steps to catch her breath.

"You go in, I'll be fine," she tells them. "I just need a minute."

Briar drops down beside her and waves Madge off. "I'll watch her."

Rolling her eyes, Daisy mutters that she doesn't need watching, but doesn't argue. She's too out of breath.

Stepping around them, up the steps, Madge grimaces as the boards groan under her as she reaches out and knocks on the door.

It's quiet inside, and she half wonders if Abilene has gone to town to see her parents when the locks click softly.

Smiling, Madge starts to greet her, but the words stick in her throat when she spots the frozen smile tacked on Abilene's face.

"Madge," she half sighs, a trace of relief ebbing into her features.

"Is something wrong?" Madge asks, trying to look over her shoulder. It does little good. Abilene is too tall.

"I-no...I have a visitor," she says simply, moving for Madge to come in.

Stepping over the threshold, Madge frowns as she looks around.

Her gaze stops when it finds a man sitting at the kitchen table, Jessamine in his arms.

At first Madge thinks it's Abilene's dad or Uncle Emmer.

Delly doesn't venture into the Seam much to see her daughter, more at ease with Abilene coming in to see her. Ryes has made his way to their home more than once though, especially during Abilene's pregnancy.

"She's my little girl," he'd told Madge. "I'll come see her as much as I can."

He doesn't come half as much as Gale is at Daisy's, but proximity is a large part of that. A five minute walk down a few roads is very different than making the journey from Town.

Emmer has been known to come to visit too. Abilene is his only niece, and clearly his favorite family member, his doting on her has annoyed Gale since she first got pregnant.

Abilene wouldn't be tense about Ryes or Emmer visiting though.

Frowning, Madge studies the man for a moment.

He's well dressed. A crisp blue shirt and black pants, blond hair neatly combed down, polished black shoes…

"Peeta?"

The figure sits up a little, shifts from their position of focusing on the baby, and turns in the seat.

Peeta smiles. "Hey, Madge."

His expression is worn, not the vibrant caricature shown on the television, the brighter, wittier half of District Twelve's famed Star-Crossed Lovers. There's exhaustion and ghosts haunting him, even now, as far from the Capitol as a person can get. Still, there's traces of the boy she'd known all those years ago, flickering out behind his smile.

"Madge." He smiles brighter, tilts the gurgling Jessamine up so she can see her. "I came to meet my littlest niece."

Nodding, Madge takes a step forward as Jessamine reaches for her, clearly excited to see her grandma.

Standing, Peeta crosses the room, gently rocking Jessamine, before reaching Madge.

"I think she wants you."

Smiling, Madge takes Jessamine, pressing a kiss to her already thick hair and holding her closely.

To Madge's knowledge, Peeta hasn't had much contact with his family in the years since he'd come back from his and Katniss' Victory Tour. Ryes had mentioned a few visits, when Abilene and her brothers had been very small, but beyond that, Peeta had been absent, a name and a memory and little more.

It's no wonder Abilene is anxious.

"She's beautiful," he tells her, voice just loud enough for Madge to hear.

He watches Jessamine chew on her hand, a wistful smile hanging on his lips, before sighing.

Madge imagines Peeta had probably wanted children. He'd have been a good father. Life as a Capitol prop, a toy and a pretty face, made family a very impractical, possibly dangerous life choice.

"Thank you," Madge murmurs back.

Reaching out, he smoothes the baby's hair before his smile eases.

"You're lucky," he tells her before shaking his head, pushing away whatever thought had cropped up. His eyebrows rise. "Heard you were getting another?"

Madge nods. "Daisy-she's younger-she's due here in the next few months."

Peeta chuckles. "That's great. Really great."

He means it, but Madge can sense the bitterness in his words. He may not begrudge her happiness, but he certainly resents that he's been denied it.

Jessamine begins to fuss, burrowing her face into Madge's chest in a search for food that isn't there

"I don't have that, sweetheart," Madge tells her, looking to the still tense Abilene. "She needs her momma."

Looking relieved, Abilene hurries over and takes her daughter, turning and going into the kitchen further to feed the baby.

Peeta looks disappoint at the loss of the baby, but smiles nonetheless.

"I guess I should go," he sighs before pointing to a small brown package. "I brought her a dress. It's from the Capitol, but it isn't bad. She won't be able to wear it until she's older though."

Remembering the dresses Mr. Abernathy had so often brought her when she was little, Madge nods. It's a thoughtful gift, even if his presence had unnerved his niece.

Madge wonders if Abilene is wary of her uncle because he's never been around, spends so much time in the Capitol, or if she's aware of how precarious a Victor's life can be.

Probably the former. Abilene hasn't got enough knowledge of Victor life to truly understand just why her uncle has stayed more than arm's length from his family.

Peeta understands though. This is probably a singular visit, like the ones he'd made to visit his little niece and nephews when they'd been small.

"I just wanted to see her once," he finally says.

"I know," Madge whispers. "It's okay."

He glances over his shoulder, probably hoping Abilene will reappear with the baby, but shakes his head when she doesn't.

"Tell her thanks for letting me hold her. She's perfect."

Nodding, Madge smiles. "I will. It was good to see you Peeta."

His smile drops a bit and he steps past her.

He stops just short of the door when it opens and Briar steps in, followed by Daisy.

She freezes, putting an arm up and blocking Daisy to the side.

"Mr. Mellark?" Daisy asks, looking confused.

"What're you doing here?" Briar asks, maybe a little more sharply than she intends. Maybe not.

They've met Peeta a few times over the years, probably more than they've met Katniss, during their visits to Mr. Abernathy's, but they aren't familiar with him past pleasantries.

Peeta looks like he might laugh.

"You certainly are Gale's child," Peeta chuckles. "No one seems to remember it, but Ryes is my brother. Abilene is my niece."

Briar and Daisy exchange a look, as if they had in fact, forgotten that.

"I'm leaving, if that's okay," Peeta says, pointing at the door. He gestures to Daisy's middle. "Congratulations, by the way."

She only nods in response.

Stepping from the door, the girls watch him exit, Briar quickly shutting the door in his wake.

They're all quiet for a moment, then Abilene peeks out from the kitchen, still looking uncertain.

"I was rude," she mutters, chewing her lip as she looks at Madge.

"You were smart," Briar counters, going to her and taking Jessamine, inspecting her for injury. "What did he want?"

Madge presses her hand her to forehead and sighs. "He just wanted to see Jess, Bri. There's no harm in it."

Briar looks unconvinced, but stays quiet, holding Jessamine closer.

Looking at Abilene, Madge smiles. "You weren't rude. You were a wary mother. Peeta understands."

Briar mutters that they don't care if he understands, and Madge almost points out that she's spent her entire life around Mr. Abernathy, but bites the words back.

Peeta won't be back, it's a pointless battle.

Instead, she sits on the couch with Daisy and takes Jessamine back from Briar and enjoys their afternoon.

They have that luxury, unlike Peeta.

#######

An hour passes, Madge is sitting on the back porch with Jessamine sleeping in her arms when someone whistles.

The girls are inside, working on dinner, and whistling isn't something they normally do to get her attention, so she frowns and looks around.

Someone whistles again.

"You sleeping?" A rumbling voice asks.

Smiling, Madge finally spots Ephraim at the edge of the porch, leaning on the railing, his helmet dangling from his hand.

"No, just resting. She was fussy, so I brought her outside to rock her."

He nods, smiles as Jessamine yawns in her sleep.

"Briar here?" He asks, reaching in his pocket and pulling out a bar of chocolate. "She asked me about getting this for Daisy for her birthday."

Nodding, Madge leans back and knocks on the window. "Bri, come out here."

There's clattering from inside, muttering, then the back screen opens and Briar pops out, bits of greens still stuck to her shirt.

"Oh, good," is all she says, taking the bar from him, tucking it in her pocket. "The ramps aren't up yet."

He nods. "Whenever, I'm not going anywhere."

"Whatever," Briar grumbles, running a hand through her hair, grimacing when she realizes she's smeared dirt in it from cleaning the greens. "We still on for Saturday?"

He shrugs. "Unless you changed your mind."

Madge almost laughs.

Briar has been taking Ephraim out into the woods with her for the past few weeks.

"He's a shit hunter," she admits. "I think he just likes being out of the fence. Reminds him of home."

Madge keeps her opinion, that Ephraim just likes spending time with her, wherever that might be, to herself. She doesn't want to scare Briar off the one friend she seems to have.

"Don't wear those damn shoes," she warns him. "I'm serious, Lew, boots or your ass sits out."

He rolls his eyes, but nods in agreement.

Turning, Briar starts to open the door and leave, tossing a 'see you later' over her shoulder, when the noise starts.

At first, Madge thinks someone is yelling, maybe a kid has fallen and is crying for their mother. Then the wailing gets louder.

Ephraim steps away from the porch, looks up at the sky just as the back door flies open and the other two girls rush out.

"I don't even see a cloud," Ephraim mutters.

Briar is as pale as Daisy as she looks at him, voice shaking. "It's not a storm warning."

She's gone, hurdling the rail, before explaining.

Daisy goes to the edge of the porch, watches Briar go, her hands gripping her belly as her breathing speeds up, eyes fill with tears.

"Sit down," Madge commands her, handing a now crying Jessamine off to Abilene, sensing Daisy might collapse. "Daisy, sit."

"What's the siren?" Ephraim asks.

He knows it's bad. A siren is never good.

Swallowing down bile, Madge guides Daisy to the rocker, smoothes her hair and tries to sooth her before looking back at Ephraim.

"The mines," she tells him, struggling to keep her voice steady. "There's been a collapse."

#######

Gale is in the middle of approving some bullshit document, a request for safety equipment they'll ever receive, when he feels the ground rumble under him.

One of the filing cabinets falls over, spilling pointless documents across the floor. The drawers jiggle noisily, and Gale's metal cup, filled with lukewarm water, shudders and topples off the desk, splattering water on his filthy boots.

Then the sirens start.

It's a long, low wail, echoes around the room as Gale gets to his feet and opens the door, dreading g what he'll find.

Outside, the clear blue sky is filled with billowing black clouds, belching upward from one of the mines.

His heart stops.

Before he can even think, he's running with the other men toward the mine, heart starting again, racing.

When he reaches the site, men are already stumbling out, bleeding and coughing, screaming alongside the siren as their friends haul them away from the still raining debris.

Pulling a rag from his back pocket, Gale covers his mouth and begins shouting orders, directing men around.

"Stabilize the opening!"

"Get the injured out of here!"

"Cover your faces!"

Time seems to stand still as more men crawl from the mine, injured, unable to walk. A few are carried, already dead, unknown to their panicked friends.

Then Gale spots Thom, blood and dirt caked in his hair, nose crooked, struggling with a limp figure tossed over his shoulder.

Gale freezes. Maybe it's been several hours, maybe it's only been seconds, but he's only just realizes which mine he run to.

His brothers are down there. Rory and Vick are down there.

"Thom!" He screams, running toward him.

Thom doesn't hear, just keeps stumbling, yelling hoarsely over the din for help.

When Gale reaches him, he's seconds from telling him to drop the body, the man is either dead or close to it when he realizes who it is.

Vick.

He's not moving, still as death even as Thom hobbles on a clearly busted ankle, trying to escape the mine.

Grabbing Thom, Gale shouts at him, tells him to stop as he takes Vick from him.

Vick is pale, a dusky gray color, dirt thick in his hair, a deep gash across his cheek that's oozing.

It takes Gale moment to notice his worst injury.

"Vick…"

His left leg is mangled, blood trickling out, bone and muscle clearly visible. It may as well be a hunk of meat dangling off his body.

Gale freezes, watches him, just like he'd watched Madge all those years ago, praying he takes a breath.

He almost cries when Vick's chest rises and falls, a ragged cough following it.

"...and then Rory threw him at me and told me to go, Gale, I just-I just went-and the elevator stopped and they were pulling it manual-"

Gale looks at Thom, now tugging at his bloody hair, face tracked with tears, and realizes what he's said.

Rory is still down there.

His brother is still down there.

Mind racing, he starts to pick Vick's gangly frame up, when someone knocks into him, pushing him out of the way.

It's a woman, a Peacekeeper, wild red hair and a stern glare as she presses a pale finger to Vick's neck.

He doesn't ask why Peacekeepers are there, why they're helping, his mind is in too many places to even wonder about it.

"Alive! We need to tourniquet that leg though, or he's gonna bleed out before we can lob it!" She shouts over her shoulder at another Peacekeeper.

Before Gale can say anything, another Peacekeeper has dropped down and cinched a belt around Vick's leg.

"Move him out!" The redhead shouts before looking at Gale and Thom.

"Not injured! Move along!" She turns to Thom and hands him a rag, takes his hand and presses it to the wound on his head, still oozing blood, trickling down his face, into his eyes. "Walking wounded! Get to the medical station!"

Thom is too disoriented to argue, just nods and begins to wander in the direction she'd indicated, behind the men moving Vick, but Gale stays.

"My brother is down there!" He tells her. "I'm a supervisor!"

She looks unimpressed.

"Little difference that'll make!"

Out the corner of his eye, Gale spots Sage, his crisp white Corps shirt filthy with blood and dirt as he helps cart injured away from the collapse.

He stops as they place another man on the cart, and Gale can see the tremor in his hand as he helps shift the load, but he doesn't hesitate. He's gone to where ever the medical station is in the blink of an eye.

"-I'm not suggesting it! I'm ordering!" The little redhead yells, turning to the other Peacekeeper. "Get him out!"

Gale starts to run to the mine, she's not big enough to stop him, but gets caught before he's taken two steps.

"Sorry, Mr. Hawthorne."

"Lew! Damn you!" Gale snarls, elbowing him, trying to shove him off. "Rory is down there!"

"And he wouldn't want you down there too," Lew gently tells him as he pins his arms to his sides, begins dragging him away. "You know that."

As much truth as there is to his words, Gale doesn't care. His brother needs him.

Debris flies around them, fills the air, already thick with screams and the coppery scent of blood and death, as Lew drags him away. Inching him further and further from the mine. Further from Rory.

He doesn't know how they get to the fence around the mines, but he struggles the entire way.

"I'm sorry," Lew keeps telling him, even as Gale shouts abuse at him, calls him every name he's ever heard, cursing him to hell for what he's doing.

"Dad!"

Arms fling around him just as Gale realizes he's been released.

"Briar?"

She's crying, her tears soaking through his dirty work shirt as she holds him tighter.

"I saw Uncle Vick," she tells him, voice cracking on every word. "Sage-Sage said it was his and Uncle Rory and Uncle Thom's mine. He said he hasn't seen Uncle Rory-and Aunt Chaparral ran in-Lew said he doesn't know where she went-and if that was-"

Gale shushes her, closing his eyes and squeezing her closer.

Rory will be fine, he lies to himself. Lew had been right, his brother would strangle Gale if he did something as stupid as go into a dangerous mine to look for him.

"Show me Vick," he tells her, needing the focus of someone he can help to occupy his mind. "He looked bad."

Vick needs him. Vick he can help.

The ground under them shudders again and Gale has to remind himself to breath.

Rory will be fine.

#######

They pull men from the mine well into the night.

Sanderson and his boy are pulled out, several of the men from Gale's old crew, all dead.

Then they find Rowan Barrows.

He's at the bottom of the shaft when they finally get the second collapse cleared away, solely to salvage the metal. The bodies found are incidental. From what they piece together, he was among the men manually cranking the elevator up, just as Thom had said.

Daisy doesn't make a noise as the little redhead Peacekeeper shows her the body, just nods as her wide blue eye fill with tears.

She's a widow. His baby girl is a widow.

Her knees buckle, she wobbles, then starts to collapse, caught by Miles before she hits the ground.

"He can't be gone," she tells Miles as he holds her up, walks her from the body. "He said he wouldn't leave me. He promised."

Promises don't stop the worst though.

Silent sobs wrack her body as Gale takes Miles' spot holding her.

He tells her it'll be okay, she's not alone, she's strong…

None of that matters though, none of it helps as she cries harder, asks him what shes going to tell their baby.

Every now and then Gale has to remind himself where and when he is. It feels more like a memory than a moment, the here and now with a heartbroken pregnant woman crying on him.

It's Daisy, not his mom, who's lost a husband.

Gale wishes he could spare his son-in-law more thought, but he just can't.

They don't find Rory's body at the bottom of the elevator shaft.

Chaparral doesn't cry, doesn't ask why. Her chin quivers and her eyes brighten, but she doesn't cry in front of anyone.

She stands tall, her curls bushing out as she does her duties as magistrate, which now include signing hundreds of death certificates. Including her husband's.

"I keep expecting him to walk in," she tells Gale when he finds her at her office, buried in her work, freckled face blotchy and eyes pink. "I don't want it to be true, but I know it is."

She laughs, watery and broken.

"Tell your mom I'm sorry. I can't be-I can't handle everyone right now. I just can't."

Her mourning is her own, and Gale simply nods and gives her a hug.

"We're still family, okay?"

She nods.

########

Hazelle crumbles, clinging to Posy as they mourn a lost son and brother.

"My baby is gone," she whispers, more to herself than Madge as they sit vigil at Vick's bedside. "My Rory is gone."

Fern hugs her grandma before going to get more water and to check on her mother and little brother.

Mopping Vick's brow, Hazelle wipes a tear away.

Vick's improving, slowly but surely.

Over the past few days, he's woken up several times, delirious with pain but the fevers have subsided.

They'd cut his leg off at the knee, leaving a bloody stump in its place.

It had to go, as mangled as it was, as much blood as it was costing him, but the reality of it was hard to see.

Blood soaked gauze and a roughly sewn skin, a vacant space where his left leg had been. Charity hadn't been able to stomach changing his bandages, letting the task fall on Fern and Boone, who'd both taken the work in stride.

"It's okay dad," Fern told him as he'd mindlessly whimpered during a bandage change Madge had witnessed. "Boone's just cleaning it."

He'll never go back in the mines, not like this. Not that any of them would want him too.

Everyone dreads telling him that Rory, his best friend, his big brother, his protector, is dead.

"I should've got him out," Thom tells them when he comes by to bring soup Bristol made.

He looks awful.

His face is bruised, nose crooked, one eye swollen shut, limping badly as he apologizes endlessly for not trying harder, failing them all.

"You saved Vick," Charity consoles him. "That's what Rory would've wanted."

She isn't wrong, and Thom knows it, but he still holds himself like a man guilty of a sin past forgiveness.

Madge and Posy watch as Hazelle presses a kiss to Vick's forehead before following after Fern.

"I don't know what to feel," Posy finally says, voice flat, empty of everything. "I miss Rory, but...I'm happy Vick survived...I don't-what am I supposed to feel?"

Taking her hand, Madge smiles, a few tears trickling out the corners of her eyes.

"I don't know."

Because there's no answer.

Slumping over, Posy's face crumples before a sob claws out her throat.

"I don't know what to do."

Holding her, Madge watches Vick's reassuring breathing, steadier than it's been in days.

"Me either."

#######

Miles stands with Daisy as their grandfather gives her Rowan's medal.

It's warm outside, and the air hasn't been deemed necessary by the Capitol yet, so all the windows in the Justice Building are open, filling the hall with the scents of spring.

Freshly blooming flowers, trees, upturned earth, and the crispness of fresh dew.

None of that erases the death hanging in the air, around all the families of the dead.

Wives, children, mothers and fathers, are all lined up for convenience, for Madge's father to give them his condolences and the Capitol's cold medal.

When he gets to Chaparral he pauses, gives her a pat on the shoulder, and passes her the medal without saying a word. Madge doubts her sister-in-law wants either words or a medal, but she's bound by her position to accept the medal, keep up the appearance. Madge supposes her father had given her his silence as a gift. His sympathies can't be put into words. He'd liked Rory.

Madge watches as he moves on to the next, a mother, then a son, then Daisy.

She looks small, frail and broken beside Miles, who is standing tall and defiant at her side. The loss has aged most of the people standing around her by decades, but Daisy seems younger. The only sign she isn't a child is the growing belly under the dress Madge had hemmed for her the evening before.

Her grandfather's smile falters and he fumbles with the medal before Miles takes it from him.

Reaching out, he pulls Daisy into a hug.

It's probably not something he's supposed to do, but he's undoubtedly past caring. His grandchild is hurting, and there's nothing he can do. A hug is a privilege, probably something he can pass off as a fit of familial affection if questioned.

The moment lasts only seconds.

He whispers a few words, presses a kiss to her cheek, then pats Miles on the shoulder before moving on.

The ceremony lasts maybe an hour, then they all spill out into the Town, puffy eyed and somber.

"Here," Chaparral hands the medal to Hazelle. "I want you to have this. For Rory."

Hazelle's eyes fill with tears as she takes the medal, turns it over in her hand.

"Thank you."

Chaparral starts to leave, but is stopped when Hazelle pulls her into a hug.

"Don't be a stranger. We're still family."

Madge looks away, presses her face to Gale's chest and lets a few tears trickle out before pulling him with her toward where their children are waiting.

This isn't their moment, and they need to get Daisy home.

#######

Weeks slip by, some days in the blink of an eye, others seem to last years.

Vick heals, though his spirits are dim as his prospects.

"I just miss him," he tells Madge as they sit on his back porch, watching Boone help Charity hang laundry on the line.

She almost tells him it gets better, but doesn't.

She's never lost a sibling. Maybe that wound never heals.

Briar moves in with Daisy, trying to keep her sister going as she settles into life without her husband, a future as a single mother.

"She's just so quiet," Briar tells Madge as she comes by to check on them. "I just-what do I do?"

Madge shakes her head. "I don't know."

She has no answers for anyone lately.

Briar chews her lip, eyes on her hands as she picks at the dirt under her nails.

"I have to force her to eat-she sleeps all the time-she only drinks water when I'm around…" she sighs, tugs at the tail of her ponytail. "She really loved him, and now she's all alone."

Pulling Briar into a hug, Madge smiles.

"She's not alone."

Daisy has that rare luxury of having a family that loves her wholly and without question. She'll never be alone.

"I'm just worried about her. Maybe Miles should come over here. She seems to do better with hi-"

She's cut short by something crashing inside, then Daisy screams.

"Briar!"

Madge rushes in behind her daughter.

Inside, Daisy is standing in the kitchen, a bowl of strawberries upturned at her feet, a puddle of water formed around her.

"I think-I think my water broke."

Briar nods. "Yep."

"How long have you been contracting?" Madge asks, putting a hand on Daisy's stomach, now firm.

Daisy shrugs through a grimace.

"I don't know," she finally says. "Since last night, maybe?"

Briar makes a frustrated noise.

"You were in labor and you let me go into the woods?"

Daisy mumbles something about it not being a big deal as Briar begins rattling off things she's read, what she remembers about Jessamine's birth, ordering Daisy to walk, walk, walk...

#######

It's several hours before Daisy is ready to deliver.

She screams, tears and sweat rolling down her face and dripping off her chin as Briar helps her stay sitting.

The little red headed Peacekeeper sternly tells her to push.

Ephraim, who had come after Wren had run off and found him for Briar, insisting he bring 'party drinks', had rushed off to find her when instead of a head, Briar had shouted that it was 'a damn foot' coming out.

"Winifred's a doc," he told them as she'd hurried into the bedroom behind Madge. "I thought she might could help."

She'd blown in and immediately commanded Briar go to the head of the bed and told Madge she was in charge of 'doing exactly what I say'.

It feels like hours stretching out around them as Daisy cries, pushes on command, begs them to 'get it out'.

She's mid scream when another noise mixes with it, a brittle little cry.

"You got a girl," Winifred cheerfully tells them as she passes the baby to Madge.

The baby squalls, flails it's little arms as Madge tries to wipe away the blood from its face.

She's perfect. Dark hair and a set of lungs.

Madge laughs as she imagines Gale. He's going to be beside himself with two granddaughters.

"Push, girl," Winifred tells Daisy, trying to deliver the placenta. "It's gotta come out."

Madge looks up from the baby and starts to go to the top of the bed to hand her to Daisy, when another cry fills the air.

"There she is!" Winifred laughs as she holds another baby up.

For a moment Madge is too stunned to speak, it isn't until Winifred makes an impatient noise that she realizes what's been said.

"Had that one off and take this one. I need to get that placenta out."

Handing the first baby to a very confused Briar, Madge takes the second.

"Twins?" She asks as Daisy laughs, taking her older daughter from her sister. "Girls?"

Daisy's face is shiny with sweat and tears as she studies the baby, smiling as she runs a finger down her tiny nose, inspecting her little fingers before looking at Madge.

"Mom? Can I hold her?"

It's the silliest question Madge has ever heard. Of course she can hold her. She's her daughter.

It takes some shifting, but soon both babies are quiet and resting in Daisy's arms as she stares at them in wonder.

They clean her up, thanking Winifred as she helps them.

"It's no trouble," she tells them. "Better than barrack checks."

She leaves once she's happy Daisy's bleeding is controlled.

"Send Lew if you need me," she tells them.

A few moments pass as Daisy smiles at the babies before looking up at Madge and Briar.

"Can you get dad? Miles and Wren too?"

Briar hesitates. "You need rest."

"Just for a minute."

"Dai-"

"Briar," Madge gently stops her from arguing, smiling. "A few minutes will be good for her."

And everyone else. They're due some happiness.

Leaving them, Madge goes to the kitchen.

Gale is pacing on the back porch while Wren and Miles are at the kitchen table with Hazelle. She must've come after Ephraim.

"We saw Lew and the lady go, but we didn't tell dad," Miles tells her, jerking his thumb toward the porch. "We we're afraid he'd have some sort of a fit 'cause she said Daisy wasn't ready for visitors yet."

"Is she ready?" Wren asks, already on her feet. "I told Sage I'd come tell him when she was ready."

"Go get him," Madge tells her.

Not waiting to be told twice, Wren races out the front door, letting it bang shut behind her.

"She's okay?" Hazelle asks, standing, hands wringing going together. She can't take another loss.

Madge grins. "She's wonderful."

Gale half falls in the backdoor, having heard the commotion of Wren's exit.

"What's happened?"

Grabbing his hand, Madge pulls him toward the bedroom.

"Come on," she tells Miles and Hazelle.

Gale is tense as they open the door, then she hears him make a strangled noise as he finally sees Daisy.

He steps past Madge and drops beside Daisy, presses a kiss to her sweat soaked hair.

"I have girls, dad."

#######

"Scout's older," Briar tells Wren as they rock the babies.

"Well Sawyer is smarter," Wren shoots back. "She came out the right way."

Rolling her eyes, Briar passes Scout to Vick, muttering that Scout had the right idea hitting the ground running.

Gale laughs.

He's happy that's all they have to fight about at the moment.

Madge comes up behind him and presses a kiss to his rough cheek before passing a plate over his head. "Strawberry shortcake."

Taking a bite, Gale watches Sage try to interest Jessamine in her new cousins, with little success.

Madge sits on the arm of the chair, wraps an arm around Gale and rests her head against his.

They've had a rough year, lost too much, wasted too much time.

But they have the luxury of more time, more chances.

So many don't.

Closing his eyes, Gale can see Rory teasing Vick, making light of the missing limb, telling him he expects him to hop to the mines.

"You aren't getting out of work that easily."

His dad is sitting next to his mom, smiling at their great-grandchildren, enjoying the fruits of a long life and a happy marriage.

Even Barrows is there, trying to hold both girls in his arms, asking Daisy if he's doing it right.

Opening his eyes, Gale blinks back tears.

Ghost and memories are all that's left of them now, which is cruel. Somehow cruel has become normal in their lives though.

He shakes the thought away.

They're alive, and they owe his dad, Rory, and even Barrows not to waste their lives in misery. It's a gift that has an expiration date, but not one they can see.

Pulling Madge into his lap, Gale laughs as she squeals, presses a kiss to her lip.

They're luck for this moment. They need to enjoy it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: ...sorry y'all. Please don't hate me, it's just how the story came out. I cried as I wrote it, if that makes any difference. Anyways, that's the end of this arc (finally), and Kaleidoscope will be on hold for a while so I can work on other stories and decide what direction this story needs to go in next. I'll revisit this universe eventually, but I think the characters (and me) need a little break. Thanks for reading and thanks for the encouragement.


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